


The Prophet of Tortham

by TheInevitableSense



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Because Molly Sure Is Strugglin, Canon Non-Binary Character, Canon Was Taken Outside and Shot, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Death, Come Solve The Mystery, Court AU, Ends Up Conning Himself In Deeper, Fake Prophet, Fortune Telling, He/him Nonbinary People are Valid, Kidnapping, Molly Gets In Deep Shit, Multi, Nonbinary Mollymauk Tealeaf, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Tries To Con His Way Out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-07-10 09:32:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 51,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15946589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInevitableSense/pseuds/TheInevitableSense
Summary: When the company of The Fletching and Moondrop Travelling Carnical of Curiosities is falsely implicated in a string of kidnappings leading up to the death of a child, Mollymauk Tealeaf - fortune teller, conman and carnie extraordinaire - finds a way to stay their executions by offering the local lord his fortune telling powers. Now, with his circus family being held behind bars and embroiled in court as a prophet, Molly must work with the other court members to find the real culprit, lest he and his family all end up in a hangman's noose. Among his new and uneasy allies is a half-orc with a disappearing sword, a court cleric who doesn't seem to have a god, a goblin in disguise, a surly monk from the Colbalt Soul, and a strange court wizard in a dirty, oversized coat.But not all is as it seems among the court of Lord Trasys, and Molly may soon find himself in far over his head. Can Molly find a way to exonerate his circus and escape the court with his head, or will he get trapped in the seemingly unending web of intrigue and be eaten alive?Oh, and there's one tiny problem: Molly can'tactuallysee the future.





	1. Molly Cons An Unsuspecting, Fatherless Girl Out Of Two Silver and Change

The silver had been a surprise to the small, sleepy town of Tortham. The mines that run beneath the town and surrounding hills had always been marginally profitable, with small iron deposits and coal that could be sold to places like Hupperdook for manufacturing. The first hunk of silver that had been unearthed by unknowing hands had been considered a lucky mistake. Nothing that precious could be found in such a plain, boring place as Tortham.

But then there came more and more silver, and more and more those who worked the mine came to realize there was a huge vein of silver that ran underneath the whole town, the farms around it, and possibly farther out. Dull stone and russet iron gave way to shining silver, a miracle bestowed upon the town by the gods.

And with the silver came change. A mere five years ago, had you told any of the residents of Tortham that their poor town would be transformed into an economic center and vacation resort, they would have laughed at you and gone back to farming or mining or doing whatever they did to barely scrape by.

But five years with an unprecedented windfall of precious, pure silver did indeed transform Tortham. Perhaps it helped the town was in a pleasant edge of the Dwindalian empire, with beautiful fields, light forests and calm weather. First came the merchants, looking to set up business or trade with Lord Frillen Trasys, the man who owned the mines, all the land of Tortham and other small villages.

Lord Trasys, a minor noble in the Empire, a sixth son of a third daughter of a much wealthier ancestor, had never taken much notice of Tortham until the silver. But now even he resided in the ever-growing township, having built himself a small castle there with a combination of magic and the sudden rush of money he now had.

But the merchants came to meet him in that castle and they made deals which made both them and Lord Trasys much more money, and then came the merchants’ families who spent that money in the shops of Tortham and hired the people as servants. And then came the visiting nobles, come to see what the fuss was about and meet their newly weathied peer. And the Empire busybodies decided that Tortham was a _nice_ place to stay with its quaint atmosphere and steady weather and kind folks.

And so today, now quadruple its original size and getting steadily bigger, Tortham is _bustling_. Newly built vacation homes rest in hills and along main streets. Its markets are teeming with people. Original residents experience wealth they’ve never imagined as their fresh food is bought up by hungry, wealthy hands, their handmade clothing and trinkets bought by those caught up with the (once) small town charm. New stores and bakeries and merchant stalls seem to pop up daily.

Along with those shops and homes came, of course, a third class of people. Travelling performers looking for their next meal came to Tortham in droves. Bards and poets and actors, looking to gain an audience with a noble family and maybe a sponsorship. Buskers perform on the roads to the people, gathering small handfuls of change. On one corner stands an elven woman with a lyre, on another stands a human man juggling flaming swords. They draw oo’s and aw’s from the crowd, along with applause and coin skittering into hats.

It is there that someone can find one Mollymauk Tealeaf.

Sat down on a corner of his own, just below standing sightlines, the lavender-skinned tiefling might be easily missed by the wandering eye if it weren’t for a few facts about him. For one, he wears a long, extravagant coat, a deep red that gave way to a rainbow of color and pattern, with complex embroidery down the whole of it. Second, his dark horns shine with golden jewelry and tinkle when he moves his head. Third, and probably the most eye catching, would be his companion; a tall, broad-shouldered, pale woman with a large broadsword and multicolored eyes.

Indeed, perhaps it was her that first drew the curious eye, and then one’s gaze would turn downwards and catch sight of the colorful Molly himself, holding a deck of cards in his hands. He smiles up at you with a devilish grin that perhaps makes you feel like you’re suddenly in a mischievous pact with him and he offers you his service: your fortune told for only three copper.

But for the moment, Molly is cross legged in front of a young, brown-haired human man, two tarot cards face up on a small square of fabric, one hand hovering over the third, facedown card. The human looks nervous, bottom lip between his teeth, as he stares at the unrevealed card. Molly lets his anticipation hang in the air for just a moment, then his long fingers pick the card up from the ground and flip it over with a flourish.

The ace of cups, upright, looks up at the two people on opposite sides of the fabric. The man looks between the card and Molly quickly. Molly cocks his head to the side, as if considering, manicured, sharpened fingernails tracing the picture gently.

“Well,” the man prompts, “what does it mean?” Molly’s red eyes look up from the spread and the corner of his lip twitches upward.

“The ace of cups represents a new love,” he says, voice bright and chipper. “So combine that with the other cards, well - that lady you’ve been fancyin’, the cards are tellin’ you to go for it.”

The man’s eyes go wide, he looks at Molly and twists the hem of his shirt in his hands. “But she -”

“But she nothin’!” Molly breaks in. “Look, the cards are saying what the cards are saying friend. And they’re saying you should go to her, tell her how you feel, that the universe is on your side.” Molly leans over the cards to clap the man on the shoulder gently. “And besides, life’s too short to sit on your hands. Go on!” He shakes the man’s shoulder and the man stands up in a hurry.

“Yeah, yeah - I gotta go find her. Right now!” He says, obviously trying to buck up every ounce of courage in him. “Right now.”

“That’s it man!” Molly calls after the man as he leaves, a purposeful stride in his step. Molly lets out a breath, smiling at the crowd around him. Quickly, he picks the three cards up off the ground and starts to shuffle them back into the deck. His movements are deft, the practiced motion of someone used to dealing with cards like these.

Molly knows the two ribbon dancers across the street might be stealing some of his audience, but he’s been going strong all day, dozens of curious passers-by stopping to throw a few coin in his bowl and have their future told to them. He glances about the crowd, trying to catch someone’s eye and draw them in. He fans the cards in his hands absentmindedly, straightens them again and goes back to shuffling.

After a few moments he fans the cards back out in one hand, holds them up and calls into the crowded street. “Anyone up to see what the future holds? I’ll tell you, just a couple of copper, guaranteed results!” His companion, Yasha, shifts where she’s standing against a wall. Her brightly-colored eyes watch the crowd just are carefully as Molly’s. “Come on, just a little fortune telling, no harm no fowl!”

“Ooo! Me!” Comes a voice from somewhere in the crowd. “Me! Do my future!” From between two people comes another tiefling, this one blue skinned with large, flowing pink sleeves and a dress. One of her horns, too, has a small chain of silver attached to it, and she is wearing earrings, but that seems to be the extent of her jewelry. Instead her green cloak looks to be made of fine fabric and a leather bodice that hugs her full frame.

She seems to bounce up to him, an excited smile on her face as she drops to the ground, blue tail flicking behind her. Molly smiles back, her energy almost infectious.

“Well, good afternoon!” Molly says. “I’m Mollymauk Tealeaf.”

“My name’s Jester,” she says, her voice tilted with a heavy accent. Her hands fold in her lap and her head moves animatedly she talks. “And I would like you to tell me my future.”

“Why of course,” Molly says. “That’ll be three copper in the bowl and we can get started.” Quickly, Jester dives into a coin purse on her hip and brings out three copper. She counts each one as she drops it into the bowl, the coins clinking on both the clay of the bowl and the other copper pieces inside it. Molly shuffles the cards more in the meantime, and when she settles back and closes her coin purse he opens his mouth to speak -

“Jester,” a deep voice says as a half-orc pushes his way to Molly’s corner. “There you are.”

“Fjord, this is Mollymauk Tealeaf and he’s going to read my fortune,” Jester announces proudly. Molly waves up at Fjord, who looks down at him and then up at Yasha.

“Really Jester?” He asks, his voice also accented, but in a different manner than Jester’s.

“Yes and I already paid for it so it’s going to happen,” Jester says. Molly can’t help but chuckle a little at her insistence. Fjord looks down at him, expression incredulous, but he rolls his shoulders and doesn’t say anything else. He’s wearing leather armor, a scabbard across his back but no weapon in it. He looks back into the crowd just in time for another woman to appear, this one human.

Fjord and the woman start to talk lowly to one another, but Jester clearing her throat pull Molly back to the task at hand. He smiles at her, leans closer to her and returns to shuffling the cards. “So,” he says, “do you have a question for me?”

Jester’s lips purse, she looks at him for a short moment. “Can you really see the future?” She asks. Molly chuckles.

“Of course I can. I wouldn’t be offering otherwise, would I?” He says. Jester’s head cocks to the side.

“No, that wouldn’t make any sense,” she says. “Unless you’re a liar.”

Molly cocks an eyebrow. “Do you think I’m a liar Jester?”

Jester eyes him over, eyes squinted in careful examination. Then she breaks out into a smile. “I don’t think you’re a liar,” she says leaning back so her chin tucks toward her chest in a childishly cute expression.

“Well, we can move ahead with the fortune telling then,” Molly says. “But I meant a question you wanted me to answer _by_ reading your fortune dear.”

“Oh!” Jester says. “Oh, okay. I misunderstood.”

“Perfectly alright darling.”

Jester looks up for a moment, thinking. Her hands come up, still pressed together, to wiggle in front of her chest as she ponders her question. Molly continues shuffling the deck, his eyes drifting slightly to Jester’s two companions. Fjord and the woman stand there, looking in his direction, both of their arms folded over their chests. The woman’s hair is cut all the way down in a sleek undercut, the longer top folded into a bun. Her lose robes have a blue color to them and she has what looks like a fighting staff strapped across her back.

Two very strong looking individuals acting as bodyguards for what must be some wealthy merchant’s flighty daughter, Molly assumes. Not an unusual grouping in the markets of Tortham.

Jester claps her hands, the sharp sound bringing Molly’s attention back to her again. “Okay, I’ve got it!” She announces. Molly motions for her to go ahead. “Will I ever find my dad?”

 _Huh_ , Molly thinks to himself, but doesn’t let the slight surprise show on his face. Instead, he only nods and holds out the deck, still shuffling. “Excellent question, my dear,” he says. “Now, I want you to hold onto that question, think about it really hard and send it into the cards.” He taps the top of the deck in emphasis.

Jester nods solemnly, and then screws up her face really tight in concentration. Her hands turn into fists on her thighs and even her tail curls up into her back. Her nose scrunches, her forehead wrinkles and it’s cute in it’s innocent, complete buy-in to Molly’s claim. Behind Jester, the woman in blue rolls her eyes and leans into Fjord.

“This is a waste of time,” she says, voice low and edging on monotone. Molly can only just barely catch the words, keeping his eyes down so they don’t notice him listening. “We should be back at the castle. We have things to do.”

“Let Jester have her fun,” Fjord says. The woman just hums and goes silent. Carefully, Molly feels along the edges of the cards he’s shuffling until he finds the ones he wants and then he makes sure they end up as the three topmost cards, in the order he chooses.

“Are you _dooonee_ yet?” Jester asks, her face still scrunched together, but now her eyes are open just the slightest to look at Molly. Molly raises his eyebrows in surprise, his hands stilling. He leans back to further the presentation, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“I am, actually,” he says. “Did you predict when I’d finish?”

Jester’s cocks an eyebrow.  “I was just wondering when you’d be done but if I guessed right then I guessed right, I don’t know.” She finishes with a shrug.

Molly leans closer to her, and she leans in instinctively. “Well, you might wanna have that checked out, you might have a little predictive ability in you too!”

Jester’s face lights up, she claps her hands in front of her chest, then one hand goes to her waist. Molly sees her fidgeting with something as she starts to speak. “Well, I _do_ have a very powerful friend and maybe _he_ helped me out!”

“Oh really?” Molly asks. Jester smiles and leans in even farther, her hands going to the ground to hold herself up as she gets even closer to him.

“Uh huh!” She says. “His name is -”

Fjord cuts her off by clearing his throat. “Maybe we should uh, get on with the reading?”

Jester looks over her shoulder at Fjord, Molly can see a pout start to form on her face. But Fjord just looks at her with one cocked eyebrow. “Alright alright,” she says with a sigh, and turns back to Molly. “So, what are my cards?”

Molly puts the stacked deck on the fabric square and deals the three on top, placing each one face down in front of the deck. “So, just so you know, this card here,” Molly points to the leftmost card, “shows how you got to this point to have this question.”

“But I already know how I got here!” Jester says indignantly. Molly smiles reassuringly.

“Ah, but some folks don’t, poor souls,” he explains. “And maybe there’s an aspect of it you haven’t thought about yet.”

“Oh, maybe,” Jester says. “But I’m a really good thinker and I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“You certainly strike me the type! Well, just to be sure, you know,” Molly says. “Better safe than sorry. This card shows where you are right now. Again, just incase there’s something you’re missing, but I doubt it.” Jester looks down at the middle card that Molly is pointing to now and nods.

“And the third one is the future?” She says. Molly nods with a grin.

“Exactly! That’s the fun part, innit?” He says. “Okay, ready for your first card?” Jester nods, and Molly flips over what he knows to be a reversed ten of cups. Jester looks down at it in excitement, and then confusion.

“What does it mean?” She asks.

“Well,” Molly says, “the ten of cups reversed like this means you’ve had some family issues, bit of a rocky relationship here and there. Presumably with your father, but not necessarily…” he trails, usually this is where people will feed him more information, but Jester just nods quickly.

“Yes, yes, I know this, I told you I’m a good thinker,” she says. “Next card.”

Molly chuckles at her insistence but obediently flips over the middle card. He looks down at it to maintain the illusion and says: “Oh, three of pentacles, good card good card.” Jester looks up at him expectantly. “It signifies collaboration, working together with people for a goal. I’m getting some sense that you’re... “ he pauses, letting his eyes slide shut, as if feeling something, “working with someone at the castle to find your dad, perhaps?”

Jester’s eyes go wide as saucers and Molly knows he’s hit the nail on the head. “Yes! Yes!” She says, bouncing in place. “Tell me the future, seer-man!”

Molly flips over the third card and Jester looks down at it excitedly, but then stops still. She looks up at Molly now in confusion and a little bit of hesitance. Molly smiles reassuringly at her. “Don’t worry my dear, the death card only _looks_ scary, it’s really not.”

“It’s not? How could death _not_ be scary?” She says almost in a drawl. Molly puts his hands out to cover where hers are starting to twitch and fiddle with something attached to her hip.

“It doesn’t actually foretell death, darling,” he says.

“Well I don’t know what else it could mean seer-man,” Jester says, pulling her hands away from his to cross them in front of her chest.

“It signifies a new beginning,” Molly says. “Something’s going to happen that starts a whole new chapter in your life soon.” Molly watches as Jester processes his words, and then sees her face light up in understanding and excitement. Again, she nods, short hair bouncing around her face.

“Oh! Yes, yes, yes! A new beginning _is_ coming soon!” She says it with certainty, like she really _can_ see the future. “A brand-new beginning for everyone and then I’m going to find my dad and Fjord will figure out his magic and Beau -”

“ _Jester_ ,” this time the woman, presumably Beau, is the one to cut Jester off. Jester once again shoots her companions a glare but then she turns back to Molly with a smile.

“Well, you’ll see,” Jester says. She stands up, pulling her skirts from the ground. Molly can see something metallic swinging from her bodice at the end of a leather strap, but he can’t get a good look at it. “But you’re right Mollymauk seer-man, there is a new beginning coming and it’ll be _huge!_ ” Jester digs around in her coin purse and produces two silver that she drops in Molly’s bowl.

“Oh, thank you darling,” Molly says. “Tips are always appreciated!” But Jester is already turning around to her companions.

“Can you believe we actually met someone who can see the future?” Jester says to Beau, who purses her lips and glances at Molly for a moment. He waves at her, fingers wiggling more than moving his palm.

“Sure Jester,” Beau says. Jester runs around Beau and starts to push her towards Molly.

“You should go have your future read!” Jester says. “You could ask him about -”

“I think I’ll pass,” Beau says, rolling away from Jester instead of trying to fight the other woman’s strength.

“But!” Jester protests.

“I said I’ll pass,” Beau says. Jester frowns, and turns to Fjord, who is already shaking his head. Jester sighs and shrugs at Molly.

“It’s alright, some people don’t want to know what their future holds,” Molly says with a returning shrug.

“Party poopers,” Jester says, and Molly laughs.

“Well, if they change their mind, I’ll be here all day,” he says. “Or, you can find me at the Fletching and Moondrop Traveling Carnival of Curiosities tonight.”

Jester’s face lights up again. “A carnival?”

“Yep, opening night performance is tonight,” Molly says, collecting Jester’s spread and shuffling the cards back into the deck. Yasha leans forward from where she’s standing to offer the group one of the circus’ flyers. Jester takes it, scans it quickly, then looks at Fjord.

“We should go!” She says, shoving the flyer in Fjord’s face. “I bet it’ll be a whole lot of fun and we can ask Caleb and Nott if they want to come and it’ll be one big night out for all of us!”

Fjord, dodging around the flyer, shares a look with Beau. “We’d have to ask them,” Fjord says.

“Well, I’ll drag them out of their stuffy lab if I have to,” Jester says, stuffing the flyer into a pouch. “Come on, let’s go ask!”

Fjord and Beau both share another look and Beau shrugs. “Alright then,” she says, turning to head back into the crowd. Fjord and Jester go to follow, but then Jester stops short, turns around and runs back to Molly. Clutching something in one hand, she reaches out and taps Molly on the head before he can react.

“Blessings be with you,” she says, her voice still bubbly. Then she turns around and runs back to follow Fjord deeper into the market.

Molly blinks, then shakes his head, feeling his jewelry and hair swish around him. He feels a little tingle under his skin and realizes belatedly she probably actually _did_ grant him a blessing of some sort. He chuckles to himself and goes back to shuffling.

“Interesting group,” Yasha says, speaking up for the first time in hours. Molly nods.

“I quite liked Jester,” Molly responds. He senses rather than sees Yasha nod. She doesn’t speak again, and Molly starts scanning the crowd for his next taker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's get this a going, shall we?
> 
> Updates will be every Sunday evening for now, though this is subject to change.


	2. Molly Just Tries To Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb appears, Yasha is a Badass, and Fjord and Beau hatch a plot.

Fletching and Moondrop’s Traveling Carnival of Curiosities wasn’t the largest carnival there ever was, but they had always been a decent size, with a large enough tent to hold their average draw. However, upon arriving in Tortham, Gustav, the owner of the carnival, had seen the sheer number of tourists and decided to spend the coin necessary to expand the tent considerably. It had been a pain to set up, much larger than the company of Moondrop’s was used to, but the extra space they now had felt expansive.

Kylre, the lizardfolk man, does slow circles around the center tent, getting a feel for the larger space as Orna, the fire-dancer, works in the slightly expanded stage area to adjust her dance. Her metalic blades are not lit, yet still flash with light as she twirls and leaps, checking distance. Desmond the violinist watches her, fingers twitching in empty air as he mimes the song he plays for her performance, while also making sure she’s not going off stage or getting too close to the fabric of the tent.

Molly, for his part, carefully finishes carving divots into the dirt to mark off where the audience is meant to sit. He then sits back down, twirling the stick absentmindedly between his fingers. He tries to twirl it like Gustav’s baton, but it slips from his fingers and goes flying across the space. Orna snorts in quiet laughter and Molly flips her off.

“Clean it up folks, not long until the audience comes in,” Gustav says, poking his head into the tent, fiddling with the cuffs on his costume. Orna gives him a nod, finishes her dance and then ducks out the back entrance. The rest disperse, most off backstage, but Molly slips back out the front after Gustav.

There is a building crowd outside, the Carnival grounds having attracted a few vendors around the tent. But the actual entrance is guarded on either side by Yasha and Bosun, the other main security for the Carnival. Gustav dives into the crowd with his baton, taking on the role of carnival barker as he drums up an audience. Molly situates himself on the ground, a few feet away from Yasha, and pulls out his Tarot cards once again. He only gets a few seconds into his first shuffle before he hears:

“There! There, I _told_ you he’d be around here.” Molly looks up at what strikes him as a familiar voice, but he cannot place it until Jester the blue tiefling bursts from the crowd around him, smiling excitedly.

“Well, he did say he worked around here,” Fjord says, coming up behind her, “so yeah, I’d _hope_ he’d be around.”

“Shush,” Jester says. “Now, go have your fortune told.”

“Jes, I already said -”

But Jester is already groaning, exaggerating the sound and throwing her head back. “But _Fjord_ he really is a seer so he could see into our future and wouldn’t that be so _useful_?”

“If you’re so set on it, why not get another reading yourself?” Fjord suggests. Jester throws her hands up in the air in exasperation.

“It doesn’t _wooooork_ like that Fjord!” Jester says. “You can’t have too many readings too quickly or else it gets all jumbled up and confusing and maybe even wrong!”

“She’s right you know,” Molly breaks in. “Or else we’d all just keep drawing cards until we get what we want to hear.”

Jester nods solemnly. “Yes, what Mollymauk said.”

“What did who say now?” Beau now makes her reappearance. Jester groans again, repeating her over-the-top movements, then goes back over what they just said. As she speaks, Molly starts to shuffle the deck quietly, eyes scanning the crowd. Jester, as lovely as she seems, might be scaring off other customers.

As he looks, another two figures emerge from the crowd to join Jester and her companions. A dirty-looking man in a rugged coat and a halfling girl in a grey cloak appear and hover a few feet away, but Fjord simply nods a greeting at them before Jester distracts him by grabbing onto the front of his armor and pulling as she speaks. The new additions do nothing but speak quietly to each other and add to the sheer eclectic nature of this group.

“So _that’s_ why Fjord should get his future told!” Jester finishes, and the dirty man glances over at the group. For a moment he looks like he’s going to say something, but then he shakes his head and keeps it to himself. Instead he looks back down at his smaller companion and she says something to him.

“I dunno Jester, the future’s not really something you wanna mess with,” Beau says. Jester rolls her eyes.

“Fine, but you two are _still_ party poopers.” Jester looks over at the dirty man and the halfling. “Neither of you want to get your future read, do you?” She asks, but she already sounds a bit resigned, like she knows what their answer will be.

The man glances once at Molly and then shakes his head. “ _No,_ no thank you,” he says, his voice just as heavily accented as Jester’s, but in a different way. Three different accents between all of them so far.

The halfling, in a high, scratchy sort of voice, says, “I’ll pass.” Jester’s shoulders deflate the rest of the way.

“Oh that’s alright,” Molly says. “Some people just don’t want to know their future.”

“You said that earlier today,” Jester says, voice pouty.

“Doesn’t make it any less true. Are you here to see the show?” He asks. Jester nods, but she’s still frowning, arms folded across her chest.

“Yeah, why don’t we start heading inside and get out of the way, we might be scarin’ off other folk who might want their fortunes read,” Fjord says, as if he’s reading Molly’s mind. Fjord motions towards the now-open entrance to the carnival, where there’s already a steady stream of people making their way in.

“Alright,” Jester says. She takes a step in that direction, but then turns back. “Hey, seer-man! Do you have an act in the show?”

Molly shakes his head. “I’m more, ah, a interest builder and back up security. But that’s alright, I have fun, go enjoy the show.”

Jester opens her mouth one more time but Fjord ushers her away with a “come on now,” and then they’re standing before Yasha. Molly keeps an ear out as the group tries to haggle their weapons past her, but he gets through a whole reading before they all begrudgingly do as they’re asked.

“They actually came,” Yasha says once they’re through the entrance.

“They did!” Molly says, running one finger down the side of the deck, feeling the various bumps and cuts he’s made there. “They gained two friends as well.” Yasha nods and collects another entrance payment from another patron.

“The one could use a bath,” she says. Molly chuckles, holds up his cards and calls out into the crowd again. He doesn’t get any takers, the line for the entrance is starting to stretch pretty long and no one wants to step out for him. So, he slips the three copper from his one customer into his pocket and starts to wander towards the back of the line. People tend to get a little rowdy the longer they wait, and Molly just likes to put himself there to diffuse any potential situations.

But tonight, things go smoothly. Merchant families and less wealthy nobility tend to be a bit calmer, save for the children that dart between legs, sucking on candy and giggling. A group of teenage humans start to roughhouse a little too much between them, but Molly steps in and soon all the kids are friends again, joking around with Molly. For a moment, out of the corner of his eye, he _thinks_ he spots something dart behind a vendor stand, but when he glances about the area, there’s nothing, so he just shrugs to himself and turns back to the line.

Gustav’s investment seems to have paid off; they don’t have to turn anyone away, but the tent still seems full to bursting. Molly gets back to the door just as Gustav gives the signal to shut the tent flaps. Yasha is up towards the front of the audience, sat next to Beau and the other members of the group, so Molly takes her position towards the back of the house.

Bosun slips out to head to the ‘backstage’ area, if one could call the empty space behind the tent ‘backstage,’ and Molly and Yasha are the only security left in the tent. Molly crosses his arms and settles in for the show, wishing the tent was set up in a way that he could safely lean against the fabric wall.

Gustav, now dressed in a different costume, now takes his place as ringmaster, announcing each act as it comes. Orna first, Desmond playing her music just off to the side as she dances, this time in full costume and her metal blades now ablaze. The twins next, doing their acrobatic routine, climbing up and over one another and up the center pole of the tent. Molly catches the awestruck look on Jester’s face as she turns to watch them.

He chuckles softly, listening to the _ooo_ ’s and _aaaa_ ’s of the crowd as the twins reach the top and start to tumble back down. Underneath the hubbub, another, softer sound catches his attention. It sounds like something sliding across the dirt and when he looks over to where it was, all he sees is the side of the tent slapping shut against the ground.

_Huh, there’s not a door over there,_ Molly thinks to himself. He gives a low whistle, just loud enough for Yasha to hear and look over in his direction. He jerks his head towards the door and then motions for her to stay put. Reluctantly she nods.

Behind her, Gustav is introducing the next act - Kylre and Toya. Molly quietly slips out of the tent and into the cool night air. Vendors around the tent are relaxed against their stands, waiting for the show to end, and they don’t pay him any attention as he walks around the tent towards where he saw the fabric move.

He knows when he’s found it because there are large, heavy footprints in the dirt just beside the striped tent fabric. “Well, who do you belong to?” He muses to himself, crouching down and inspecting them. He can’t make much out about them, but he does spot a trail leading away and into the forest beyond the campgrounds.

Molly hums to himself, draws his scimitars from where they hang at his waist, and carefully holds one to the back of his neck, ready and waiting. He follows the tracks to the edge of the forest, where he loses them in the bramble.

That’s where he stops, tense and wound like a coil, visually searching the trees. He knows he close enough to the campground that he could probably shout and get some help, but he doesn’t want to go any further. The woods before him look thick and dark, branches hanging menacingly down above him and underbrush seemingly urging him to get caught in their thorns.

“Alright!” He calls into the forest. “Anyone out there?” Silence meets his question, silence save a few crickets. “That’s alright, you don’t gotta show your face, just don’t be messing with the tent, yeah?”

There’s something about the silence that puts him on edge. The footprints on the ground promise _something_ , but Molly cannot catch even a glimpse of a person among the trees. He takes a breath, bites his lip and calls one more time: “You’re not in trouble, just don’t do it again.”

Still silence, and Molly stays for just a few more moments, the scimitar at his neck lowering back to his side. “Good talk!” He shouts again into the forest. He takes a few steps back, only turning his back on the woods when he feels he might be a safer distance away.

The trip back to the tent is spent calming his pounding heart. He slides his scimitars back into place and takes a few calming breaths before he slips back into the circus tent. Almost instantly, Yasha’s eyes are on him, but he just shakes his head. _Dumb kids fooling around_ , he thinks to himself. But still, his eyes are drawn to the portion of the tent he saw move. The young child sat close to it watches the act with wide eyes, completely enraptured.

_Nothing_ , _it was nothing_ , he assures himself. There’s still something in him on edge even as the carnival comes to a close. Gustav and Desmond take the first bows and the tent erupts in applause. Soon the other performers come back to the stage for their own bows, and Molly claps along.

As the crowd starts to leave, Yasha disengages herself from Jester’s motley group and slides up to him.

“Did you see something?” She asks him lowly. Molly nods.

“Probably someone trying to get a free show, peeking in under the tent,” Molly says. “Dunno why, wouldn’t have been able to see anything.”

Yasha nods. “Can’t fault someone for trying.”

“Especially not with _this_ magnificent show!” Molly says, sweeping his arms out and fixing a grin on his face. Yasha smiles at him but doesn’t say anything else. For a moment, they just stand there and watch the large audience stuffle out of the tent.

“Hey!” Comes a voice Molly has just come to recognize as Beau’s. Both he and Yasha watch as she and the rest of her crew approach Yasha. “You still have our weapons,” she says, pointing at Yasha.

“I do,” Yasha says, nodding.

“Well, can - can we have them back?” Beau says, chin jutting out in a display of dominance Molly only half believes. Yasha nods, and then starts to dig through her collection of confiscated weapons. Molly watches as Yasha digs out a long bo staff, which she hands to Beau, and then a sickle - Jester’s to Molly’s surprise. The halfling gets a knife back, then Yasha goes into her pile once more. She searches the whole thing, pauses, then goes through it one more time, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Something wrong?” Beau asks. Yasha, still pawing through the various blades, maces and bows, glances up just once before she speaks.

“I can’t - I can’t seem to find his sword,” Yasha says, pointing quickly at Fjord. “Give me just a moment, I’m sure it’s here.”

Fjord blinks in realization, swallows quickly. “Uh, that’s um, well you see -”

Whatever he’s about to say is run over by an ear-splitting scream from outside. The low background noise of a crowd grows louder as another, lower voice shouts out something - _he’s going that way!_ Molly thinks he hears.

In the next heartbeat he’s shouldering his way through the crowd and outside. It doesn’t take him long to find the source of the disturbance, a crying human woman with blood running down her shoulder is being held by a man on the edge of the crowd. A circle of space has cleared around them, people watching their plight with wide, silent eyes.

“Alright, what’s happened?” Molly asks, one hand on a scimitar and the other held out. _A pickpocketing gone wrong,_ he thinks as he approaches the bleeding woman. He hears footsteps behind him and expects Yasha to be there, but when he glances back it’s _Beau_ that’s caught up first.

“My son!” The woman, and that sends alarm bells ringing in Molly’s head. “That man took my son!” Her non-wounding arm shoots out, pointing out towards the stretch of forest Molly had stood by and shouted into earlier. And there, Molly can see it - a figure in a dark cloak running as hard as it can towards the forest, a child looking limp in its arms.

In the next instant, Beau is off and running after the figure. She’s fast, faster than Molly would have given her credit for with her shorter stature. She has her bo staff in one hand, the other scrabbling at her belt for what looks like a throwing star.

_Well, fuck_ , Molly thinks as he takes off after Beau. He pulls his scimitars out and shouts: “Yasha, around the side!” From the corner of his eye he spots Yasha take off to the right, and Molly goes left. He slides both of his blades across the back of his neck, feeling the warmth of blood on his skin for just a moment before it disappears in the ice now glittering on the edge of his weapons.

Suddenly, the open clearing is bathed in light as four, small, glowing orbs fly through the air at high speeds, shooting out to light Beau’s way. Molly glances back to find the rest of Beau’s companions in hot pursuit, each fanning out slightly to create a line of fighters going after the kidnappers. The dirty man has his hand extended, and Molly gets the feeling the light came from him.

The halfling girl produces a small crossbow from insider her cloak and fires at the fleeing figure, but the bolt slams into a tree as the figure slips into the brush. “Fuck!” She shouts, and a moment later a blast of dark energy hits another tree. Molly keeps his eyes ahead, trying to keep sight of the rapidly disappearing shadow.

Beau reaches the edge of the forest and just keeps moving. The lights follow, fanning out to try and illuminate the figure. Molly catches Yasha’s eye as they both reach the thicket. She has her longsword drawn, broad shoulders managing to keep it held aloft as she full out sprints. In the moment of eye contact they have, Molly shrugs as if to say _what else are we gonna do?_ And then they both dive into the forest.

The underbrush is thicker than Molly had assumed, it pulls at his coat and slows him down as he’s forced to pick his foot placement carefully.

“Anyone got visual on this fuck?” Beau shouts, and Molly can just see a streak of blue through the trees. The lights spread out further, illuminating as much as they can and casting long shadows.

“ _Nien_ ,” comes that accented voice of the dirty fellow.

“Nothin’,” Fjord calls. “Spread out, we gotta find him.” Molly joins the chorus of affirmative and starts to pick his way further through the forest.

_Asshole just had to go kidnap a kid tonight_ , Molly thinks as he moves. He quickly loses the light, the globs of light floating over to stay closer to Beau and the dirty one. _Probably hopes it’ll get pinned on us carnies_. Beau disappears into the forest and Molly _thinks_ Fjord goes past him and further to the left, but he can’t be sure.

Molly soon finds himself alone in the darkness, the light of the moon barely reaching the forest floor. As he makes his way as quickly as possible, he can hear crickets ands his own breathing loud like cannons in his ears. The ice on his swords gives off a soft glow, but nothing really to see by. He curses softly as he trips over a root.

He keeps his ears pricked for any noise, any hint of anyone around him. This motherfucker doesn’t get to mess with this circus, _Molly’s_ circus. The buzz of insects crawl across Molly’s skin as he tries to search the trees for any hint of movement.

The snapping of a twig almost makes him jump out of his skin, but the second he hears it he takes off in that direction. He still has to move carefully, but he moves as fast as he dares. He steps wrong on a root and he can feel the pain shoot through his ankle, but he keeps going.

Through the trees he thinks he spots a flash of movement, but then it’s gone. Molly keeps moving, following it. Brambles pull insistently on his coat, the brush getting almost impossibly thicker the further into the woods he gets.

Then the sound of moving water catches his attention, his eyes drawn in that direction just in time to catch another flash of movement. Molly swallows, his heart thumping in his ears. He has _no idea_ where anyone else is, Yasha or any of the other group. He could shout if needed, but would anyone hear?

But what if he’s been tracking one of his allies, instead of the kidnapper? There’s another flash of movement and the sound of the water is getting louder. He might have crossed into another’s search path, he has no clue where he is. A soft, pained gasp ahead of him spurs his feet a little bit faster.

He finds the brook first - a tumbling waterway cutting through the forest. It signals a break in the branches above, and the light of the moon provides a little bit more visibility.

Just enough to spot a crouched figure about thirty feet downstream of where Molly currently stands. Molly feels his heart clench, his hands gripping his swords even tighter. He takes a slow step forward, trying to move as quietly as possible on the covered forest floor.

Another flash of movement in the trees catches Molly’s eye just before the snap of a twig in that same direction. The crouched figure stops, freezing in place for a moment and Molly does the same.

A long moment of silence passes before the figure quickly scrambles to get something from the ground beside him. The figure holds the object up, and though Molly can’t be sure in the dark, it looks like a gem of some sort.

More importantly, the figure’s movement reveals to Molly the child, lying in a heap on the floor, limp.

With the figure’s apparent distraction, Molly takes a couple more quiet steps forward. He rolls his shoulders back, takes a deep breath and then launches himself across the rest of the way to the figure.

The figure looks up at the last possible second, it’s face hidden in the shadow of night and a hood. It dodges Molly’s first strike but isn’t expecting the second. The blade in Molly’s left-hand sinks into flesh and blood splatters across both the floor and Molly himself.

The figure grunts in pain, and Molly, figuring the jig is up now, shouts “Over here!” into the darkened forest. A second later, Yasha seems to almost materialize from the forest. _She_ must have been the one that snapped that twig earlier. She roars as she catches sight of the child, and the sound takes the figure off guard.

Startled, the figure extends a single hand in Yasha’s direction, says a single quiet word and a moment later three magical darts shoot in her direction. They burst across her chest, but it doesn’t stop her forward charge.

Molly goes to take another swing but then there’s a cold hand on his stomach. He has but a moment to think _oh fuck_ before his entire body seizes up in pain. Electrical light shoots from the figure’s hand and into his flesh, making Molly’s muscles spasm in agony.

He cries out and stumbles back, only barely managing to get his legs under him properly. Yasha is there, then, bringing her greatsword down towards the increasingly panicked figure. It just manages to scramble out of the way, tripping over the child’s still form on the ground.

Yasha’s wide, angry eyes turn on the figure and again its hand shoots out to latch onto Yasha’s wrist. Those same electric sparks now light up Yasha’s pale skin and she jerks her arm back in pain.

Molly only barely sees the flash of metal before the figure jabs a blade into the child’s stomach. The child wakes up for just a moment, crying out in pain before his eyes flutter shut once again. Molly curses, shaking the final bits of electricity out of his arms and making another stab towards the figure.

But the figure is already up on its feet and dashing deeper into the forest. Molly snarls, opening his mouth to taunt the retreating figure, but his throat muscles still haven’t recovered from the shock of the spell Molly took.

So instead he drops to his knees by the child’s side, his hands finding a still chest and no heartbeat. “Shit,” Molly mutters.

“Should we keep chase?” Yasha asks, standing back at her full height, peering into the trees on the other side of the brook. Molly follows her gaze but catches no glimpse of the murderous figure.

Before he can respond, the area is suddenly flooded with light. Molly looks up and sees those same floating lights now hung in the air around him and Yasha.

“Over here!” Molly shouts back into the forest. “We found the kid!”

There’s the sound of approaching people, and Fjord is the first to make it to them. He holds a long, deadly looking sword. The light glints off of what looks like water that drips from the hilt of the sword. Fjord takes one look at the situation, Molly still nelt by the now dead kid, and says: “Aw shit.”

“He fled that way,” Yasha says, pointing across the brook. “We might still be able to catch him.”

Beau is the next to emerge. She looks down at Molly and the child, balls one hand into a fist and punches a tree. “Mother _fucker_ ,” she shouts.

“What? What’s happened?” Jester’s voice comes a moment before she does. She too takes just a moment to size up the situation. “Oh, oh no,” she says, her voice quiet and a little subdued for once. Fjord moves off to check the area, peering into the woods on the other side.

“We almost had him,” Molly says. “I got a good hit in, but then he hit us both with some magic, stabbed the kid and took off.”

“He was a magic user?” The dirty human appears now, panting and flushed red with exertion. Molly nods.

“It seemed like he was gonna do something with a gem before I jumped him.” Molly says. “Where did the blasted thing go -” he glances around himself and the kid before catching sight of a large ruby. The red shines in the light now, though it appears to be fairly translucent. “There.”

The dirty one walks over and picks it up. He examines it for a moment, holding it up to the light. “And he stabbed the boy when you interrupted him?” He blows a strand of his messy red hair out of his face but does not take his eyes from the ruby.

“Yeah, yeah,” Molly says.

“What is it Caleb?” Beau asks. The dirty man - Caleb - sighs.

“I do not know yet. I will need a few minutes,” he says, and then pockets the ruby. “It could be nothing but a spell component.”

“What do we do now?” Jester asks. Fjord turns around and looks at the collected group.

“We find whoever did this,” he says. “We need to get this figured out and squared away quickly. That was quite uh, a public abduction back there.”

Beau nods. “Yeah, pretty fucking ballsy to just snatch a kid from his mom.”

“Either way, we don’t need any sort of attention or distractions,” Fjord says. His eyes flick briefly to Yasha, and then to Molly, an odd sort of thoughtfulness in them. Molly feels something cold settle in the pit of his stomach. “This could bring unwanted pressure from higher up.”

The next instant, the small halfling girl - except now it looks like her skin has turned green - bursts from the underbrush, crossbow held at the ready. “Ha!” She says, aiming her crossbow this way and that in jerky movement, making the same grunting vocalization each time. “Where is he? Where is the culprit?”

Beau’s eyes jump to Fjord’s, and something passes between them silently before Fjord clears his throat.

“Seems to me,” he says, raising his sword and pointing it down at Molly’s throat, “that, uh, we’ve got a perfect pair of culprits right here.”

Molly looks up at him, a protest already on his lips, but there’s nothing but a cold, steady gaze meeting him. Almost belatedly, he remembers that he’s currently coated in blood, and the only bleeding person in the area appears to be the dead kid _currently under his hands_.

_Oh, fuck me_ , Molly thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is up folks my name is Parker and if you ever wanna come talk to me about shit you can find me [here](https://theinevitablesense.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> See you Sunday


	3. Molly Rolls A Nat 20 On His Deception Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Trasys makes his entrance, Jester provides an idea, and Yasha rolls with her best friend's bullshit.

Yasha, bless her heart, tries to swing her sword at Fjord, but doesn’t get too far before a mumbled word from Caleb freezes her in her tracks. He holds a small piece of iron in his hands and fiddles with it gently while Beau pulls a rope from her bag and secures Yasha’s arms behind her back.

“Sorry,” Beau says, and doesn’t meet Yasha’s angry gaze at all. Fjord jerks the tip of his sword upward a little.

“Up now, come on,” he says. “Drop the swords.” Molly frowns but does as he’s told. The moment his scimitars leave his hands the magical ice on them disappears.

The hafling(ish) girl turns away, places on hand on her surprisingly long ear and whispers to herself quickly. Jester steps forward, looking between Beau, Yasha, Molly and Fjord.

“Um guys,” she starts. “Mollymauk and Yasha didn’t hurt the boy.”

“We know Jes,” Fjord says. “But we’re gonna tell everyone they did.”

Jester’s eyes go wide, she scrunches her face in indignant anger. “But -”

“We’ll talk about it more with Trasys,” Caleb says. “Would you please gather their weapons Jester?” Jester frowns but does as she’s been asked. Surprisingly, she manages to pick up Yasha’s greatsword with only a little difficulty, and when she scoops Molly’s scimitars off the ground she turns to him.

“Don’t worry Mr. Seer Man, I’m sure Lord Trasys will let you go because we all know you’re innocent,” she says. “And he’s a good guy.”

Molly smiles, tight-lipped. “Your friend currently has his sword at my throat dear,” he says.

“Well, that won’t be for _forever,_ ” she says. “You’ll see.”

Yasha’s body flexes suddenly, and Molly can tell she’s broken the spell on her by the way she turns to glare at Fjord. “We did not do anything wrong,” she says. “We helped you.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” Fjord says. The not-halfling turns back to the group and for the first time Molly finally gets a full look at her and -

“That’s a goblin right there,” he says, the surprise making the words tumble out of his mouth. The goblin girl frowns, sharp teeth poking out of her mouth.

“Alright mister -” she starts, but then Caleb steps forward.

“She is but no one would believe you if you told them,” he says.

“That’s right! Because Caleb is an excellent wizard and he taught me to disguise myself!” The goblin says, and the suddenly she’s a halfling again. “See!”

“Thank you Nott,” Caleb says. “Did you get word to the Guard?”

“Yep!” Nott says. “They’ll be here soon.”

And she’s right, as it takes only a few more minutes for a small contingent of Crowns Guard to appear, lead by a half-elf with shoulder-length blonde hair.

“Took your time there Bryce,” Fjord says. Bryce sighs.

“ _Someone_ left a disturbed crowd and a bleeding mother behind for us to take care of,” they say. They look Molly and Yasha up and down and take a step forward. Their Crowns Guard uniform catches the light from Caleb’s magic light. “These two our suspects?”

“Yeah, two of the carnies,” Beau says. Jester mutters something under her breath but Bryce doesn’t pay her any attention.

“Alright, shackle ‘em,” Bryce says, motioning a couple of their contingent forward. Molly eyes the metal shackles as they’re brought towards him but doesn’t fight as they’re clasped around his wrists. Yasha, already tied up, surprisingly makes no attempt to flee as they transfer her hands from rope to iron manacles.

Bryce, meanwhile, is looking down at the boy’s body. “God dammit,” they mutter. Then they look up at Molly, taking in the bloodstains on his chest and coat.

“I swear this isn’t what it looks like,” Molly says. Bryce just frowns.

“Save it for the Lawmaster,” they say.

“Actually,” Beau clears her throat, “we’ll take these ones right to Trasys.” Bryce looks over at her, and then at the others standing in the clearing by the brook. Then they nod slowly, knowingly.

“Take them to the Lord’s castle then,” they instruct the guards holding Molly and Yasha’s chains. “And we’ll pick up the head of the carnival on the way.”

\--------------

It takes forever yet no time at all to get to the throne room of Castle Tortham, and so the last hour or so has been a blur of Crowns Guard orders and travel across the town. But now Molly, Yasha and Gustav all stand, manacled and chained together, before the empty seat of Lord Trasys.

Beau and Fjord are both standing on either side of the fairly plain-looking throne, Beau’s arms are crossed as she glares at some door Molly presumes Trasys will arrive from behind. Jester has taken a seat on the floor seemingly randomly in the middle of the room, just to the side of the three in chains. Caleb is standing, leaning up against a side wall and Nott has sat down on the ground beside him, still in halfling disguise.

Molly stands between Yasha and Gustav, and silence reigns in the hall save for Jester’s near incessant humming. The chains clink as Gustav leans closer to Molly.

“So, how bad does it look?” He asks. Molly bites his lip, and glances about. Bryce and the other guards had left the three of them with this motley group and closed the door behind them.

“Well,” he says lowley, “they’re accusing us of murdering a child.”

“I’ve got that so far,” Gustav says. Fjord watches their conversation with narrowed eyes. Molly swallows.

“And I might have been found by the body covered in blood.”

“Molly,” Gustav says, voice suddenly urgent.

“We didn’t do it!” Molly says, the chains clanking even further as he raises his hands slightly in a sign of defense. “It just really looks like we did, from a casual outside perspective.” Gustav frowns, looking down at the floor. “Also, I think everyone but the tiefling wants to frame us for it, and they’re the only ones who know we’re innocent.”

Gustav’s head snaps up, looking at Molly with wide, horrified eyes. There’s a moment of silence, and then he says. “This looks really bad.”

“Yep,” Molly says.

“Yeah,” Yasha agrees almost instantly. Beau’s started to tap her foot impatiently.

Gustav lets out a long breath. “You just had to go and cover yourself in the kid’s blood, didn’t you?”

“Hey, it’s the _real_ kidnapper’s blood,” Molly protests. “I tried to be the hero.”

“Circus folk aren’t heroes,” Gustav says. “We’re thieves and conmen and pickpockets.”

“Say that a bit louder, I don’t think the good Lord Trasys heard you,” Molly says. Silence descends again. Molly’s legs are starting to hurt from standing for so long, his arms and wrists ache from the weight of the shackles.

Just as it seems Beau is about to go looking for Trasys herself, the door she’s been glaring at finally opens and out steps a slip of a man dressed in fine bedclothes, his curly hair a bit askew. He stands at a completely average height, but his reed-like body makes him look like he could be blown away by the wind. A long, thin nose and large, shallow, brown eyes give him a perpetual deer-in-the-headlights look, even as he yawns and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, I’m awake,” he announces. “What is it?” His voice, though threaded with sleep, carries just enough to be heard through the whole hall, though maybe that’s only because it already is silent.

“We might have, uh, a bit of a, well, a situation Lord Trasys,” Fjord says. Trasys yawns, wide and smacks his lips together in the aftermath. If Molly didn’t know better, he might say the Lord of Tortham was no more than a sleepy child.

Trasys collapses into his throne, looks down at the three in chains in front of him and then back at Fjord. “A situation with these three?” He asks, waving a hand in their direction.

Fjord nods, but it’s Beau that speaks. “There was a kidnapping,” she says. Trasys’ eyes instantly lose any of the sleepy haze they still had, and he sits up straight.

“Another?” He asks, and Beau nods.

“Bryce says there’s a couple missing this time,” she says. “Someone grabbed a boy pretty loudly. We think it was a distraction.” _More people are missing?_ Molly looks over at Beau questioningly, but he is ignored. “Happened outside the Moondrop Carnival.”

Trasys nods, and then turns his gaze on the three in chains. “And these three...?”

“Carnies,” Fjord says. “The one on the end is the owner, the other two we found with the boy’s body.”

“ _After_ we pursued the actual kidnapper with you guys,” Molly interjects. Instantly, Trasys’ gaze zeros in on him and Molly is caught off guard by both the strength and intelligence behind those eyes.

“You stepped in to help,” Trasys says. “And yet you are in chains.”

“Yeah, we still found them with the body,” Beau says.

“But they did help!” Jester interjects. Trasys smiles slightly at her words, and nods. There’s a small curl of hope in Molly’s chest as Trasys’ gaze turns a little softer.

“Did anyone else see them go to help?” Trasys says.

“They saw them run off into the woods in pursuit, but nothing beyond that,” Fjord says. “But he’s covered in blood and it looks _mighty_ suspicious.”

“Sure, sure, it looks bad,” Molly says. “But again, we tried to help. And besides, why would _we_ kidnap and kill a kid?” Once again, Trasys looks directly at him, as if searching him.

“Why would you indeed,” Trasys muses. Gustav tugs on the chains and steps forward

“Sir, all due respect, but we’re not responsible for this horrendous, horrendous crime and we are _so sorry_ this happened but we truly had nothing to do with it,” he says. “We will help the investigation as best as we can, we swear, but we didn’t do it.”

Trasys turns his gaze on Gustav, and he nods slowly. Molly can almost see him turning something over in his head. “It’s still a little bit of a pickle you find yourselves in, isn’t it?” Trasys says.

Fjord then clears his throat and leans up to whisper something in Trasys’ ear. Trasys’ head tilts as he listens, his eyes narrow. He then turns to whisper something back and Fjord replies.

Then there’s a long pause, and Trasys nods to himself, lips pursed together. Molly feels his gut churn. “Lord Trasys, sir,” he says, taking a step forward as well but Gustav yanks once more on the chains.

Trasys holds a hand up and leans back into his chair. “Well, it seems quite obvious to me that these carnival folk bit off a little more than they could chew trying to kidnap a boy for their scoundrel lifestyle.”

Molly’s eyes widen, Gustav takes another step forward, making the chain between him and Molly go taught. “Your Lordship, you surely cannot think we would _kidnap -_ ”

“Silence,” Trasys commands, and Gustav stops speaking. “Beauregard, tell Bryce to round the rest of these carnies up. We’ll hang them at dawn.”

The words hit Molly like a sledgehammer, making his heart stop in his chest and his body go cold. They want to _hang_ him, hang him until dead and then they’ll bury him in another unmarked grave and then he’ll be dead for _good_. Even if the body woke up again it wouldn’t be _him_ now would it? Mollymauk Tealeaf would be dead because he decided to try and save some kid and not only that, all his circus family would be dead along with him.

_No,_ Molly decides. _That’s not going to happen_.

Molly steps forward at the same time Jester springs to her feet. “But they’re innocent!’ Jester protests. “And Mr. Mollymauk is a wonderful man and -”

“You can’t possibly be serious!” Molly says at the same time. “You’re just going to have us hung, no trial no nothing?”

Gustav looks wide-eyed, slack-jawed up at Lord Trasys as Trasys folds his arms over his chest. “A boy was murdered tonight, there must be justice done.”

“Is it justice to hang nice carnival workers who only tried to help?” Jester accuses, hands planted on her hips. Trasys looks at her, hard expression melting to something a bit softer.

“Jester, we’ve got to put this thing to bed before it attracts attention,” he says. “We’ll find the actual culprit, but for now this is an elegant solution.”

Molly looks around at all the faces in the hall, but none offer him any sympathy. Beau starts to make her way across the hall, back to the door leading out. “Sorry ‘bout this,” she says as she passes. Molly, head spinning from the sheer _speed_ of this all, takes a step forward towards Trasys.

“We can help!” He says. “We can help find the real murderer and then you won’t have to hang us! That an even _more_ elegant solution, if you ask me.”

“How could carnival folk help us find a killer?” Caleb asks, speaking up for the first time. Molly looks at him helplessly, trying to think of something, _anything_ the cast of Moondrop’s could offer a kidnapping and murder investigation -

“He can see the future!” Jester says, pointing one slender finger at Molly. “He can see the future and he can tell us how to find the real murderer!”

Trasys’ brows furrow, but Fjord takes a step towards Jester. “Jes, I’m sorry, but he can’t. He’s just a con -”

“Yes I can!” Molly says, grabbing this one boon with both hands and running with it. “I can see the future.” Gustav, still in a bit of a stupor, looks at Molly incredulously. On his other side, Yasha gives him the same look.

“Beauregard, wait,” Trasys says, and Beau’s footsteps halt. Trasys leans forward in his throne, eyeing Molly up and down again. Molly stretches a grin across his face, holding his shackled hands up in a shrug, heart hammering in his chest. The room is so silent, Molly swears everyone must be able to hear it. After a long moment, Trasys asks: “What is your name?”

“Mollymauk Tealeaf, diviner extraordinaire,” Molly says, trying to bow with a flourish and only managing a simple bend at the waist thanks to the shackles. “Able to see the future with mild clarity.”

“Mild clarity?” Trasys asks, a strange, half-amused smile crawling across his face.

“Mild clarity, yes,” he says. “I’m not the _best_ there’s ever been, but I’m accurate and consistent.”

“He read my future earlier and told me that there’s a _new beginning_ coming,” Jester says, placing such emphasis on the words Molly is sure she must be referring to something in particular. Trasys looks at her, and then back at Molly.

“And you would look into the future and tell us who’s behind the kidnappings?” Trasys says. Molly nods.

“I would be doing my best, of course, and I might not have a clear cut answer, but I can help point you along the right direction.”

“Trasys, this guy is a conman,” Beau says. “Does tarot readings on the sidewalk for spare change.”

“I spread my gift to the masses,” Molly says. “Lesser, even murkier readings to save my energy, but they’re all real.” Molly smiles at her, and then back up at Trasys. Even he’s amazed by the amount of bullshit he’s spewing out of his mouth. He’s spun wild tales before, but this might take the cake.

More amazing though, is the curious, interested way Trasys is currently looking at him. Molly doesn’t look away from him, his heart pounding and his throat dry. _Buy it, come on, you know you want to_.

“It’s true,” Gustav says suddenly. “He warned us something was going to go wrong tonight.” Molly doesn’t dare look at Gustav, only nods.

“Did he now?” Trasys says, his eyes sparkling. “Well, Mr. Tealeaf, if you really can see the future, I think a deal could be made.”

“Just what I was thinking,” Molly says, the tiniest bit of hope starting to reemerge in his chest.

“ _If_ ,” Trasys says, leaning even farther forward in his throne. “And that’s a pretty big _if_.”

“I can do it,” Molly says. It’s such a blatant lie Molly is surprised his pants don’t catch fire instantly and burn him to death here and now.

“I would, uh,” Caleb speaks up again, “ask him to prove it.”

“I am, don’t worry Caleb,” Trasys says. Molly swallows, that small curl of hope dissipating as quickly as it formed.

“Perfectly understandable!” Molly says, already too deep in the con to back out now. “I’d need my hands free, my cards and a volunteer.” Trasys nods, and motions at Beau. A moment later, the muscular woman is in front of him, glaring at him with a clenched jaw.

“You better not try _shit_ ,” she says. “We will kill you, no hesitations.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly aware of that,” Molly says. She produces a key from inside her robes and a moment later his hands are free of shackles. Gustav and Yasha are still chained together, and Beau grabs hold of the chain while also pushing Molly forward. “Well, one out of three,” he says. Then he produces his tarot cards and announces: “Two out of three. Who wants to be the guinea pig?”

“It can’t be me,” Jester says, solemnly. Molly nods, in agreement. The others all look between each other, all hesitant. Finally, Trasys holds his hand out in Caleb’s direction.

“Caleb, why not you?” He says. “You can do that detect magic spell, can you not?”

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb says, and stands up from the wall. “I will do it, if you wish.” Molly feels his heart sink into the floor as Caleb comes over to him and mutters what _must_ be an incantation. But he holds the smile as his brain casts about for something, _anything_ he could do to fool this wizard. Caleb comes to stand in front of him, hands stuffed in his pockets. “What must I do?”

Up close, Caleb is even more scruffy and dirty than Molly thought. His oversized coat almost drowns him, and between the mop of hair on his head and the scratchy looking beard his face is almost completely obscured by hair. His eyes are a bright piercing blue, and that might just be the only ounce of color anywhere on Caleb.

“Well, it’s better if we sit,” he says, trying to stall. “Oh, and also, you might want to let Yasha free.”

“Why?” Beau asks. Molly looks over his shoulder at her.

“Well, sometimes I can get a little _caught up_ in all the visions. She knows how to pull me back to reality. Otherwise, who knows how long I’ll be in the clouds.” He looks at her and then and Trasys as innocently as possible. “It’s a safety thing.”

Trasys lets out a breath, and then nods. Molly hears Beau grumble something to herself but then there’s the clanking of chains and Yasha is standing, free, beside him. Her eyes are searching, confused, and Molly just smiles. _I hope you know what you’re doing_ her look says. Molly continues to smile back.

Yasha frowns.

“Well, come on then, sit, Mr. Caleb,” Molly says, looking back over at Caleb. Molly sits, cross legged on the floor and Caleb lowers himself onto his knees slowly. “There you go, it’s alright.”

“Let’s get this over with Mr. Mollymauk,” he says. Molly swallows and nods.

“So, I need you to have a question. I’m really drained tonight but I should be able to do this properly,” he says, like a warning. Caleb nods, but sits silently. “I need you to say the question out loud, love,” Molly says. Caleb starts, eyes flicking up to meet his for a moment and then away again.

“Will, uh, will I succeed?” He asks, ever so quietly Molly almost has to ask him to speak up. Instead he nods.

“That’ll do, that’ll do,” Molly says. “Hold onto the question really tight in your mind, okay?” Caleb nods, a slight pink flush starting to color his face. Molly places his cards on the floor, swallows, and thinks _well, here goes nothing_.

Slowly, Molly raises his sharpened, manicured fingernails to the flesh of the opposite arms, digs in and pulls downward. He feels himself draw warm blood which then changes into that familiar, ice cold, radiant light. It creeps into his fingertips and the moment he feels it take effect, he lets his eyes flutter shut.

_Please let this weird blood stuff fool a wizard,_ he pleads to himself, also maybe a little to the Moonweaver. That part out of the way, Molly lets out a long breath. It’s time to put on a show.

He reaches out and takes his cards. Blindly, eyes still shut, he holds the deck in one hand and then reaches out his other hand to Caleb.

“Give him your hand,” Yasha says, softly, thankfully following Molly’s lead. He hears Caleb shift in place, but then a warm, rough and bumpy hand is placed in his. Part of it is covered in tightly wound bandages, only the top of the palm and the fingers poking out. Gently, Molly turns it over and places it onto the deck. Molly presses Caleb’s hand and the deck together tightly and starts to mutter softly in infernal.

_“Success_ ,” he says, remembering at the last minute Jester will be able to understand what he says, so he can’t just make shit up. _Ha,_ not like he hasn’t been doing that already. _“Failure, show me, twisted bonds of fate, show me -”_

He lets his voice cut off harshly, throws his head back with a gasp, eyes flying open. There’s silence around him as he jerks his hands away from Caleb’s. He starts to shuffle the deck, moving as quickly as he dares while he’s staring ‘emptily’ at the ceiling.

“Is he alright?” He hears the raspy voice of Nott, quiet.

“Yes,” Yasha responds. “He is seeing.”  
“He didn’t do this for me,” Jester says, the pout audible in her voice.

“He didn’t need to, that was a less intense seeing.” Molly can hear the stumbling hesitation in her words, hopes that the nervous lie is mistaken for concern or simple shyness.

“That makes sense,” Jester says softly. Caleb shifts again in place. Molly feels some of the cards try to slide from his grip and instead of fighting it he lets it happen. A small contingent of cards hits his lap but he just keeps going. From there he continues to let cards fall from his hands until he’s only holding three.

The moment that happens he throws his head forward, letting his hair and horn jewelry cascade in front of his face. The jerky movement elicits a gasp from someone, Molly isn’t sure who. He forces himself to take heaving gasps, like he’s trying to catch his breath. He lets the moment stretch for the drama, staring at the ground just in front of his crossed legs.

“Molly?” Yasha asks, softly. Molly can see his cards scattered across his lap and onto the floor. With one hand he reaches out and swipes the area in front of him clean and then places the last three cards side by side.

“The past,” he says, trying to drain every ounce of emotion from his voice. _You’re a carnie, you can do this,_ he tells himself. He flips it over. “The Emperor, reversed. Abuse of authority. Someone once hurt others to maintain power.” From the top of his vision, he sees Caleb shift.

“The present,” he continues. He flips the next card. “Nine of Swords. Trauma. You are trapped, hoping for a way out.” He can feel Caleb’s eyes boring into his head like hot coals. “The future -”

He stops, letting himself sway slightly. There is dead silence in the room. “Ten of swords,” he says softly. “Absolute failure. Defeat. You will fail. You cannot control everything, and you will fail.” Molly starts to speak louder, volume growing with each word. “Betrayed, self-defeated, you will fail. After shall come new beginnings but _you_ will fail.” He’s almost shouting now, taking gasping breaths. “Failure, death, failure, fail, fail, _fail_ -”

Yasha’s arms wrap around him and pull him up from the floor. “Molly,” she calls, loudly, even as Molly continues to ‘babble.’ “Molly!” His feet are hanging and she holds him aloft. _Yes, good job Yasha, sell it,_ Molly thinks. “Mollymauk, come back.” She squeezes his body tight, and Molly finally jerks his head up and sucks in a breath.

Yasha stops calling his name as he reaches up to squeeze her arm. His nails are still glowing and he lets the ice fade away. He blinks rapidly a couple of time, looks around like he’s regaining his bearings, and says: “Oh, that one was a big one.”

Everyone is staring at him, mostly looks of shock, though Gustav is looking at him with something bordering _impressed_. Caleb is still sitting in place on the floor, staring straight ahead. Trasys’ eyes are alight as he looks at Molly, a smile spreading across his face.

“Let me down Yasha dear,” Molly says, and reluctantly Yasha does. She keeps a hand on his arm and he willingly stumbles into her. “Sorry, I’ll be alright in a moment.”

“Caleb?” Trasys asks. Nott, as if broken out of her shocked and confused state, scampers over to Caleb’s side. For a moment, Caleb is silent, then:

“ _Ja,_ ” he says. “That was... was _ah_... was real.” His voice sounds hard, but devoid of any emotion. The moment Nott touches his shoulder he scrambles to his feet. “I must go,” he says, and then he’s rushing out a side door.

“Caleb!” Nott calls after him, following a few feet behind. Beau takes a few steps in that direction but stops when Molly clears his throat.

“He might need some time to digest that,” he says simply. Taking careful steps, like he really has been weakened by his ‘spell,’ he starts to walk back over to his cards. His legs do feel the slightest bit unsteady, perhaps from relief.

“What did you mean, Caleb would ‘fail?’” Trasys asks. Molly looks up at him, blinking.

“Did I say that?” Molly asks. Trasys nods. “Well, I don’t have a clue what that means.”

“Why not?” Fjord asks. Molly shrugs.

“I don’t remember a damn thing I see. Don’t even remember what I do or say during trances.” He kneels down by the card spread and peers down at them. He whistles. “Those are some _nasty_ cards though.”

“You said some nasty things too,” Jester says. Molly nods.

“Makes sense, looking at _this_ spread.” He carefully collects his spilled cards and rights them back into a proper deck. When he stands, he blinks, stumbling back slightly. Yasha is at his side in an instant, supporting him. “Was that good enough proof? Because I’m this close -” he holds up two fingers almost pinched together - “to passing out.” He lets himself slump against Yasha’s side and she obligingly wraps one arm around him.

“If Caleb says that was real, well I think that is excellent proof,” Trasys says. “I think we might be able to strike a deal after all, Mr. Tealeaf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Sunday


	4. Molly Gets Exposition Dumped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasha sleeps in a soft bed, Kiri eats breakfast and Nott talks about explosions.

A deal is indeed struck and Mollymauk becomes the newest member of the Court of Lord Trasys.

The actual terms of the deal are simple: Molly is to help Tortham and the others that populate the court to find and bring to justice the person or persons behind the rash of kidnappings through Trasys’ lands, or he and the other members of Moondrop’s Carnival will be executed in their place. The details however take most of the night to hammer out, and by the end of it, Molly has failed to free his circus family from jail but has gotten them some books and the ability to have a little time outside every day, so that’s nice.

The only members of the circus not currently in _official_ custody are Molly and Yasha, who managed to wiggle her way out by claiming she needed to be by Molly’s side for safety if he is to be performing powerful readings. But from the stiff way Beau and Fjord lead Molly and Yasha down a hall to a guest bedroom Molly has no delusions he’s any less of a prisoner than the rest of the Carnival.

“You’re free to wander the castle grounds as you want, I guess,” Beau is saying. “But if you want to leave you tell either me or whoever’s in charge of the gates that day, you got it?”

“Yep,” Molly says, letting his gaze travel along the walls to avoid looking directly at her. Tapestries hang and decorate the hallways, broken up by the occasional portrait of faces Molly doesn’t recognize, but some of them bear a passing resemblance to Trasys.

“Don’t go into Caleb’s lab or the office off the library,” Beau instructs.

“I thought you said I was free to wander?” Molly asks, teasing. Beau glares at him over her shoulder.

“Man, just, do what fuckin’ I say, alright? I don’t want this to be any more of a thing than it needs to be.”

Molly tilts his head to the side, but before he can say anything a strong hand comes down on his shoulder. “What Beau means is, uh, you can wander but some places are off limits, sorry,” Fjord says. “The office is my space? It’s where everything about the mines are kept anyway. Just don’t fuck with it, is all.”

Molly shrugs. “That’s understandable. And I assume Caleb’s lab is sort of the same thing?” Fjord frowns, almost grimacing.

“Caleb uh, _really_ doesn’t like folks up there, and I don’t think you’re exactly his favorite person right now.” Fjord’s eyes are this yellow color that peek out from the dark green skin around them, and they watch Molly curiously. “What was that all back there?”

Once again Molly shrugs. “I don’t remember, we’ve been over this. Where is this lab I should avoid?”  
“Top of the east tower,” Fjord says. Molly nods, files that information away in his head. Yasha lets out a long breath, likely already aware of Molly’s sudden, burning need to get up to that lab. On one hand: he should probably talk to Caleb; on the other hand, don’t these people know that forbidding a place from someone just makes them want to go there more?

“East tower and library office, off limits, understood,” Molly makes a little mock salute. Fjord just cocks an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. It’s not too much longer before Beau stops suddenly in front of a wooden door. She eyes it for a moment before nodding to herself.

“Yeah, this one’ll be fine,” she says and yanks the door open. Inside is a plush bedroom, one large bed, a vanity and a dresser. The one window shows nothing but the night sky and what looks like a garden stretching back behind the castle. “Which one of you wants this one?” She asks, looking at Molly and Yasha.

Molly looks over at Yasha, who shrugs her shoulders slightly. “We should probably share,” Yasha says softly. “You can get those dreams sometimes.”

Molly nods, mentally adding one more layer onto their complex lie. “Right, yeah. We’re both good here.” Fjord looks at him like he’s contemplating something, rubbing his chin with one hand.

“We’ll send someone to get you for breakfast,” he says, something else behind his eyes. Once again, Molly finds himself completely unsure what the man is thinking, but he just smiles.

“Looking forward to it!” he says, just as Yasha puts a hand on his shoulder.

“You need to get some rest Molly,” she says, trying to gently pull him into the room. “You must be wiped out after today.”

Molly nods and follows her in, tossing a goodnight at Fjord and Beau. Fjord gives a gruff goodbye and Beau just grunts. Yasha shuts the door as the two go to leave, and Molly stands in the middle of the room, listening to their footsteps retreat. Yasha turns to look at him, eyes hard and concerned, but neither of them speak until a few long moments after the footsteps disappear entirely.

“Well, that happened,” Molly says eventually, quietly, all the bravado in him draining away. Yasha nods.

“It did,” she says. Molly purses his lips, lets out a long breath through his nose and looks around the room. It’s ornate and fine, but not garish or any _fun_ like Molly would like. Stuffy and proper.

“We _might_ be fucked,” Molly eventually says. Yasha just nods again, not moving from where she’s leaning against the door.

“What are we going to do?” She asks, haltingly, voice somehow softer than it usually is.

Molly shrugs, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. “Find a kidnapper?” He says, and then throws himself back onto the bed. There’s a quiet puff of air as he hits it and he feels himself sink into it pretty far. Molly’s eyes widen as he looks at the ceiling, soft fabric underneath him.

“Yasha, this is the _softest_ bed I’ve ever been in,” he says slowly, a small amount of awe in his voice. He presses one hand down into it, kneads the mattress gently.  “How would you even fuck in this, it’s so squishy.”

“Molly,” Yasha says, pulling Molly’s attention back to her and the situation at hand. “What are we going to _do_? They’ll likely ask after your divination, ah, abilities in the morning. We don’t know anything about this kidnapper or this town.”

Molly purses his lips, trying to think, looking up at the ceiling. “We need to stall for time then, find out as much as we can about as much as we can. Claim whatever they want me to do is too big to do without lots of rest and prep.”

“Then they’ll be expecting something big in the future.”

“That’s a problem for future us.”

“Future us might be screwed if we don’t think of a plan now,” Yasha points out in her soft way.

“That’s why we’re doing to do a little investigation now,” Molly says, he sits up to look at her, tail swishing behind him as he thinks, trying to find a way out of this conundrum. “Here’s what I’m thinking: there’s something odd about the intrepid child rescuers we met today, don’t you think? I’m still not sure how they’re so connected with Trasys, or what they do when they’re not framing circus folk for murder.”

Yasha nods along as Molly speaks. He continues: “That might be our first priority, figure these people out and how to keep them believing I am who we are saying I am.”

“And then we have to solve a kidnapping and a murder,” Yasha says.

“One thing at a time, Yasha dear.” He bites his lip, worrying it between his fangs.

“The tiefling seemed to be on our side already,” Yasha says.

“Jester? Yeah, yeah we should stick by her for sure,” Molly says. “Caleb might be an issue. _Damn_ those cards fell bad.”

“He seemed convinced you were telling an actual fortune though.”

“Thank the gods for the weird blood shit,” Molly mutters. “It still might be good to get him on our side sooner rather than later.”

“He ran away pretty fast,” Yasha unnecessarily reminds him.

“So I apologize and get to rebuilding that bridge,” Molly says. “So Jester and Caleb are our focus for the moment. Fjord and Beau seem a little too tough to tackle at the start, and Nott's very presence here is a bit of a mystery.”

“I think that’s a decent plan,” Yasha says. “We should probably get some rest.”

“We will certainly need it,” Molly says. He stands, shucking his clothes and folding them carefully. He places them on the nightstand, does the same with his jewelry, and turns around, fully naked, in time to see Yasha in her small clothes, climbing into bed. He slides in beside her, their bodies pressed close together despite the large size of the bed.

“The bed _is_ very soft,” Yasha says as Molly cuddles into her side, throwing one arm over her. He nods. Silence descends, and despite Molly’s hope he’ll pass out quickly he’s left lying in the dark for a while.

“Yash,” he whispers. Yasha hums in response, seemingly far from sleep herself. “You can’t take off right now, you do know that, right?”

Yasha is quiet for a minute. “If I am called, I have to go.”

“They might not let you leave,” Molly says.

“I will have to go,” is all Yasha says. Molly lets out a sigh.

“Let’s hope you aren’t called then,” he says. Yasha shifts a little beside him but does not say anything else. The silence sits heavy, Molly curls his head against Yasha’s chest. Her heartbeat is steady and strong, her breath long and deep.

“I’m pretty fuckin scared right now,” Molly says. Yasha curls the arm he’s lying on and pulls him tighter against her body.

“I know,” she says. “I am too.”

“They almost had us hung.”

“I know.”

“What the fuck have I gotten us into?” He asks.

“A possible way to save our friends and our own lives,” Yasha says.

“Yeah,” Molly concedes, “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.”

They both fall asleep in the next stretch of silence.

\--------------

Molly is awoken by a loud, booming voice shouting the hour from the battlements. Not his usual wake-up call, but a familiar hour. He yawns, feeling Yasha start to shift and stretch beneath him. He chirps a good morning, gets the usual soft repetition from her, and rolls out of bed. His muscles complain, he must have pulled something yesterday and he certainly didn’t get a full night’s rest. Not an unfamiliar feeling, all things considered.

He pulls on his clothing and is just finishing threading the last delicate, shimmering chains through his horns when there’s a knock on the door. Three very sharp impacts, like someone is rapping with the end of a staff or perhaps the hilt of a sword. Yasha is concentrating on rebraiding a lock of hair, sat cross-legged on the floor, so Molly opens the door himself.

For a moment, Molly is confused, as there seems to be no one at the door. He glances left and right, looking to see if maybe someone is just delivering wake-up knocks to every bedroom, but there’s no one. Molly’s brow furrows, he’s about to call out when the sound of talons on stone catch his attention and pull his gaze downward.

There _is_ someone at the door, and that someone is a large, black bird.

The bird is about the height of a human child, coming up to the top of Molly’s leg. It looks up at him with large, raven-like eyes over a pointed black beak. A small, green cloak rests over black, feathered shoulders and while the creature has no wings, it does have very long fingers that almost resemble wings, though quite obviously could not be used for flight.

The bird looks up at him, tilting its head with a series of quick clicking noises, seemingly examining him. Molly blinks down in surprise at it, feeling a confused but charmed smile spread across his face. _Whatever_ this thing is, it’s pretty damn cute.

“Hello there little thing,” Molly coos, squatting down to be eye level with it. The bird’s head rapidly tilts the other direction.

“Hello there little thing,” the bird says in Molly’s voice. Molly’s eyes widen, his smile grows wider.

“Oh that’s clever,” he says, chuckling a little. “Yasha, come over here, there’s a mocking bird at the door!”

“What?” Yasha asks.

“What’s your name, hm?” Molly asks the bird. The bird chirps once.

“I am Kiri!” The bird says, this time in Jester’s voice. “I am very sweet.”

“I’m sure you are,” Molly says. “Oh, this is absolutely delightful.” He hears Yasha come up behind him, then stop.

“There… there _is_ a bird at the door,” Yasha says.

“Would I have lied to you about a bird at the door?” Molly asks her, glance up and over his shoulder to find her familiar, confused frown.

“A bird at the door,” Kiri says in Molly’s voice again. Yasha’s frown softens ever so slightly.

“What can we do for you Kiri?” Molly asks, not feeling silly at all for asking a human-sized bird a question. He worked with a toad-man after all.

“Can you get our new friends for breakfast?” Kiri says, once again in Jester’s voice. She then clicks a few more times, raising one arm to point down the hall.

“Jester sent you to escort us to breakfast?” Molly asks, and Kiri nods, head bobbing jerkily. She steps back and away from the door, talons clicking against the floor. She looks at Molly expectantly, waiting.

Molly glances back at Yasha, who shrugs. “I guess we follow the bird,” she says. There’s a ruffle of feathers then:

“Go _fuck_ yourself!” Jester’s voice once again comes out of that black beak. Kiri shakes out her feathers with a _pffff_ sound, and then she says again: “I am Kiri!”

“Yeah, Yasha, her name is Kiri,” Molly teases, “Don’t just call her ‘the bird.’”

“I… I am sorry, Kiri,” Yasha says. Kiri nods, as if accepting the apology, and then turns to march down the hall. She sticks her thin, leathery legs almost directly out in front of her with each step, talons clicking loudly against the floor.

Molly glances one more time at Yasha, a _what are you gonna do?_ sort of look, and then follows the small bird down the hallway. Yasha falls into step beside him.

“So, how old are you Kiri?” Molly asks. Kiri makes a little _prrrpt_ sound.

“Five years old,” she says, this time in Caleb’s voice. Molly nods.

“How long have you been living here?” Yasha asks. Instead of responding with someone else’s voice, Kiri coos twice. “Two… two years?”

“Yeup,” Kiri says, Fjord’s deep drawl perfectly mimicked. She also nods that jerky nod, but her gaze never wavers from in front of her. She looks as if she’s concentrating on something, the look of a child given an “important mission.”

It isn’t long before Kiri turns a corner and Molly finds himself in a moderately sized mess hall, with tables stretched down the length of it. On one side, a window provides a view into the kitchen, and a handful of young men lean against the counter there, talking with a couple of the workers inside. Other castle staff in both guard uniforms and more domestic work clothes are scattered around the tables, eating their breakfasts and chatting. Laughter rings out through the room, and Molly is standing just on the periphery of it all.

Kiri hops down the little lip onto the mess hall floor, which is set a couple inches lower than the hallway Molly is still standing in. The little bird simply makes her way through the tables and crowd, uncaring of the much larger human figures around her. Figuring Kiri hasn’t lead them wrong yet, Molly starts after her, keeping his eyes on the blob of black and green.

As they make their way through the room, some people say hello to Kiri, some pat her head as she passes, some ignore her, one even says “Little Kiri’s on a mission this morning, huh?” Kiri just nods and keeps moving.

When those same people lay their eyes on Molly and Yasha, however, reactions are different. Unsurprisingly, news of newcomers has seemingly already made its way through the castle staff, and Molly finds himself the subject of appraising eyes. He knows he is by far the most colorful thing in the room, and even as mutters about him and Yasha start up he just smiles and follows Kiri.

Kiri leads them to a far table, on the other end from the kitchen window. There, Molly can see Jester, Fjord, Beau, Nott and Caleb all crowded around the end of a table. Nott, Caleb and Jester’s backs are to them as they approach, but Kiri climbs up onto the bench next to Jester and chirrups loudly.

“Hello again Kiri!” Jester exclaims, “did you complete your very important mission?”

“She did, and did it wonderfully,” Molly says. The groups’ eyes all slide up towards him. Jester grins, and Fjord gives a nod of greeting, but the others look at him with cold stares or narrowed eyes, in the case of Nott.

“Good morning Molly, how did you sleep?” Jester asks.

“Just great, thank you.” He looks around the table, sees the spot next to Fjord is unoccupied. “That seat taken?” Fjord shakes his head and Molly slides around the table to plop himself down on the hard, wooden bench. When he looks up, he finds himself sitting directly across from Caleb, who is looking down into his plate of eggs like he’s trying to read something in them.

“Good morning Mr. Caleb,” Molly says. Caleb startled a little, but down not look up.

“ _Guten morgen_ , Mr. Mollymauk,” Caleb responds, voice hard and barely above a mutter. Nott, not in her halfling disguise but instead in what looks like bandages and a porcelain mask, glares at him, a piece of bacon hanging out of her mouth. A silence reigns the table for a moment, before Jester turns to Yasha.

“Yasha, you can sit next to Molly,” she says. “And, by the way, I really like the beads in your hair.”

Yasha, halfway to her seat, stops and raises one hand to one of the aforementioned beads. “Oh,” she says, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome! We saved you guys food.” Jester points to two plates, each with eggs, bacon and other salted meat. “We didn’t know what you might want, but I wanted to save you the trouble of walking all the way to the counter and back, you know? It’s all the way across the hall and it’s only your first day.”

Kiri chirps, as if in agreement, and reaches for a bowl full of what looks to be seeds. She starts eat, head jerking quickly up and down, picking up seeds with her beak. Jester looks around at the group, a smile on her face, waiting for someone else to speak. For a moment, however, there is silence save for the sound Kiri’s eating.

Molly sighs. _Time to play offensive,_ he thinks. He scoops a little breakfast onto an empty plate, and as he’s sprinkling salt onto his eggs he says: “Mr. Caleb, I think I need to explain something kinda important about my divination to you.”

This time, Caleb does not startle. Every eye at the table besides Caleb’s snaps to Molly, who flicks his tail back and forth lazily, trying to look as casual as possible. Caleb swallows, but still does not look up.

“Alright, go ahead,” Caleb says. Nott leans further into the table, and if looks could kill, Molly’s heart would stop this very moment.

“So, exactly whatever I saw, which I dunno if you’ve been told I don’t ever directly remember, is only a _possibility_ ,” Molly says, watching Caleb’s countenance carefully. “The ‘failure’ I predicted is simply… a path the future _could_ take. The strings of fate are wild and complicated and knotted up in one another, and all I see is one of them.”

“But there must be a reason you saw that particular one over any other, no?” Caleb asks. It seems like the whole table is holding its breath. Molly shrugs.

“Sometimes I think there’s a reason I’m shown the particular futures I see, sometimes not. You asked whether or not you would “succeed,” but you didn’t specify what you were trying to do. The prophecy of failure could be referring to any number of things, possibly not a complete failure, and again it is simply one path out of many that we could all travel down.”

Caleb hums, and Molly shoves a mouthful of eggs into his mouth. “What I’m sayin is that failure is not guaranteed,” Molly says. “It’s just an option, and now you know it’s an option, and you can work with that knowledge.”

“Doesn’t help much if we don’t know specifically _how_ he might fail,” Beau butts in, speaking for the first time that morning. Molly shrugs again.

“Didn’t have much energy and I wasn’t using the most detail oriented divination method,” he says. “Give me a week or so and the right tools maybe I can deliver more specifics.”

“A week?” Fjord asks. Molly nods.

“Seeing the future is hard work my friends, and the more specific I want to see the harder it is.” He busies himself with the food, as if what he’s saying is anything else than pure fabrication.

“So we can revisit Caleb’s ‘failure’ in a week or so,” Fjord says.

“If you want,” Molly says.

“I, uh, do not think it is relevant,” Caleb says. It’s his turn to have all eyes on him, but he stoically refuses to look up from his breakfast. It’s at this point Molly notices he’s not even eating, just pushing it around on his plate. “I asked about a simple experiment I was going to conduct that night, and when I went upstairs I discovered that I had indeed incorrectly prepared a few of the components I had needed. Gone unchecked, I might have blown the entire east tower from its settlements.”

His tone is even, his words precise, but something about Caleb’s explanation doesn’t sit right with Molly. He still hasn’t taken a visible bite of food, has not looked up at Molly once. He thinks there’s perhaps a grain of truth in that statement, but…

“Well,” Molly says, rubbing his hands together, “aren’t you glad I came along then?”

“Would it have been a cool explosion?” Jester asks.

“I mean, would it have?” Beau asks, even as Fjord drops his face into one hand. “I get it would have sucked, but it woulda at least been cool, right?”

“All explosions are cool,” Nott says, breaking her stare down of Molly for a minute. “It would have killed us both but yes, it would have been cool.”

“Fuckin knew it,” Beau says. Kiri chirps, dropping her bowl on the table with a clatter. Jester looks over at it.

“Oh, good job Kiri! You ate all your breakfast!” Jester exclaims.

“I am very sweet!” Kiri says back, and then pushes the bowl at Jester. As Jester goes back and forth with the small bird on whose job it is to take the dirty bowl back to the kitchen, the tension falls from the table. Beau and Fjord start to eat once more, and although Nott never quite looks away from Molly, she pulls her mask down slightly and starts to rapidly shove bacon into her mouth. Caleb still does not eat, but Molly pretends not to notice.

Instead, Molly gently drums his fork on his plate to regather attention. “So, it occurs to me that you all know quite a bit about me but I can’t say the same about all of you,” he says.

“We don’t know jack shit about you,” Beau says, but Molly rolls right over that.

“I mean, since we’ll all be working together, it would be nice to get to know everyone else on the court, don’t you agree?” This question Molly gives to Jester, who nods quickly. She opens her mouth but it’s Fjord who speaks first.

“Well, uh, you’re kinda looking at the whole court here,” he says. “Trasys is a good guy but not really the highest on the noble totem pole. It’s just us five - seven now, I guess with you and… Yasha, was it?” Yasha nods. “Good to make your acquaintance Yasha.”

“Good to make yours while not in chains,” Yasha says. Fjord actually winces a little bit.

“Yeah, well,” he clears his throat, “you know how it is. Anyway there’s also a few merchants that come and go from the castle and sometimes Trasys will get noble visitors, but it’s really just us.”

Molly nods. “And what do you all do, then?”

“Well, I’m kinda the guy in charge of the silver mines,” Fjord says. “Trasys owns them, o’course, but I’m the one making sure things get done on time and shipped where they’re supposed to go and that we get everything we import, yada yada. Beau’s head of castle security.”

Molly looks over at the woman, finds her wearing grey and blue robes with a bright blue sash tied around her waist. “You’re Crown’s Guard?” He asks her. Beau frowns, looking as if Molly had just placed a rotting fish on the table in front of her.

“Fuck no,” she says. “Just work with ‘em.”

“ _Sometimes_ ,” Fjord cuts in again, “it’s nice to have someone outside the guard helping out and keeping an eye on things. Beau, Trasys and the Guard have an agreement on Beau’s jurisdiction, as it may be.”

“The castle is _my_ fuckin house,” Beau says, cutting right to the quick of it. “Outside the gate I got jack. But the castle is mine. People on these grounds answer to _me_.” Molly nods, filing that away for future reference.

“Duly noted,” Molly says.

“Jester’s court cleric,” Fjord says, “Caleb’s our wizard.”

“Caleb is the _best_ court wizard there ever was,” Nott cuts in. “He is strong and capable and _never_ fails, so remember that for next time, mister.” She jabs her fork in Molly’s direction, as if in warning. Both Fjord and Caleb sigh.

“Nott is Caleb’s assistant,” Fjord says. Caleb mutters something under his breath at the same time but it’s lost under Fjord’s voice and the general din of the meal hall.

“Damn right I am!” Nott says.

“And what about our little birdie friend?” Molly asks, watching as Kiri hops off the bench with annoyed clicks and starts to make her way up to the kitchen window. Fjord cocks an eyebrow and says:

“Kiri? Oh she’s not really anything _official_ -”

“She is _my_ assistant and she is fantastic,” Jester interrupts.

“Right,” Fjord says, an undercurrent of amused exasperation in his voice. “Kiri is _Jester’s_ assistant.”

“And now we’ve got a court prophet,” Beau says.

“And his assistant,” Molly says, gesturing to Yasha, who nods.

“Welcome to court,” Fjord says.

“Excited to be here,” Molly says. “So, what’s first on the kidnapper hunting agenda?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is up folks early update because I'm Really Busy Tomorrow! Enjoy!
> 
> See you (next) Sunday


	5. Molly Gets Shot At

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trasys does some gardening, Fjord does some paperwork, and Caleb shows Molly some fucked up trees.

The first thing on the agenda turns out to be an extended castle tour, and then a meeting with Trasys himself. Through the tour, Molly can see where the construction workers went with speed over beauty, and someone has since attempted to cover the well done if rough-looking patches with tapestries, paintings and fine furniture. Molly spots a bit of flooring that’s not the same color as the rest carefully covered with a small rug.

But then again, he’s looking very closely, at first having been taken by the extravagant trappings but now that he’s noticed the cover-up job he’s having more fun finding all the little pretty imperfections. There’s a little creep of satisfaction inside him whenever he does spot one.

It’s Jester, Fjord and Kiri that lead him and Yasha around this time. Beau disappears on “guard duty shit” and Caleb and Nott slip away before Molly can even blink. They do pass the staircase to Caleb’s laboratory however, in all it’s dark, steep and empty glory. Fjord’s directions and descriptions are short and to the point, while Jester likes to ramble on about her favorite tapestries, which rooms are the best to draw in (and what she’s drawn in each -  mostly dicks) as well as whatever extraneous little stories she can remember on the spot.

“Oh, sometimes Caduceus comes to sleep in this room and make tea for everybody, but mostly he lives out on the hills,” she says, mouth running a mile a minute. Molly glances inside the guest bedroom and finds a room painted a gentle green and absolutely _covered_ in fungus. He makes an internal note about that, but actively chooses for the moment to let it go. He’ll deal with it if and when this Caduceus fellow shows up.

The tour ends outside a door that Fjord gestures to and says: “And here’s Lord Trasys’ courtyard. He’ll be inside, waiting for you.”

“Thanks,” Molly says. “Great tour you guys. Lovely castle.” He reaches for the doorknob but then Fjord puts his hand on it.

“No funny business with Trasys, you hear?” He says.

“Well if he’s _into_ funny business, I don’t see why you should cock block him,” Molly says. Jester snorts with laughter. Fjord’s upper lip twitches, his face flushes a slightly darker color.

“You, uh, you know what I mean,” Fjord says, clearing his throat.

“You haven’t given me my swords back yet darling. What am I gonna do, gore him on my horns?” Molly asks.

“I was just, I figured that - fuck it whatever,” Fjord says and steps back from the door. Molly swings it open and steps through, but as Yasha goes to follow, Fjord puts a hand on her bicep. “Trasys just wants him.”

Yasha opens her mouth to protest, but Molly speaks first. “It’s okay Yasha, I won’t agree to a reading without you there.”

Yasha narrows her eyes at him. “Promise you won’t be stupid?”

“Well I can’t promise you that, but I promise no readings,” Molly says with a grin. Yasha lets out a breath but nods, and steps back so that the door can swing shut. The moment it does and Molly can’t see her anymore, he feels his chest constrict with nerves. He forces himself to take a deep breath, square his shoulders and puff out his chest again.

He can do this, he doesn’t need backup. He’s a conman, and a damn good one. He might even fancy calling himself a con _artist_ , considering the shit he’s pulled in the last twenty four hours. When he turns around, he has his best smile stretched across his face and already starting to move in that way that makes his coat flutter and move about him.

The courtyard he finds himself in is simple, and far more utilitarian than Molly would have expected. The stone path he’s standing on stretches out and branches in a three-way fork, spitting the square courtyard into four sections of garden beds. Each garden bed has been carefully tilled in rows, tiny little sprouts starting to poke up from the ground in some places. In others, already grown bushes and vines crawling up wooden tresses. Molly can even see the tiniest berries starting to grow among the bushes. If he peers downward, he can see where small note cards denoting what is growing where with labels like “thyme,” “parsley,” and even one patch of plants labeled “tomato.”

In one corner of the courtyard, or garden rather, Trasys is knelt in the dirt, hands busy planting small bulbs in the ground. As Molly draws closer he sees where Trasys is wearing breeches that have been rolled up to his knee as well as a loose shirt already stained with dirt. He looks like a common gardener, not a minor lord.

“Your lordship requested to see me?” Molly says, stopping a few feet away and bowing in an extravagant manner. Trasys looks up, sweat beaded on his brow, blinks and then nods.

“Mr. Tealeaf, thank you for coming out here,” he says. He places a bulb carefully into a small hole he’s dug with his fingers. “Quite warm, but you’ll forgive me for wanting to meet outside, won’t you? Better to get this done now before the noonday sun is overhead.”

“It is no problem,” Molly says, straightening up. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, I’d like a small reading,” Trasys says, pushing the dirt over the bulb. There’s a moment of silence as Molly casts about for a reasonable excuse - “I’m just teasing, I heard you talking with your friend… Yasha, correct?”

Molly lets out a breath of relief. “Yes, that’s her name.”

“Good, it won’t do to be rude to my guests,” Trasys says. He packs the earth down around the tiny green sprout. “Also, if something I ask you to do is out of your range of abilities, please don’t be afraid to tell me. I understand.”

“Thank you,” Molly says. “I would, do a reading you know, but it’s so soon after doing a big one and Yasha wouldn’t want me to do one without her anyway.”

Trasys nods, scooting down the line a little and pulling a small bag of bulbs with him. “Would you like to do a little gardening with me, Mr. Tealeaf?”

“Call me Molly, please,” Molly says. Trasys looks up, hands planted on his thighs, waiting patiently for Molly to join him on the ground. So, Molly slides his coat off and carefully folds it before placing it on the stones. He carefully picks through the rows of plants until he’s standing on the opposite side of Trasys and then lowers himself down to kneel. He makes sure to curl his tail on safe patches of dirt so as not to disturb any of the other young plants. “I don’t usually do this sort of thing,” Molly says with a chuckle.

“It’s really quite simple,” Trasys says. “Do me a favor and just make a small divot in the ground, not much bigger than the bulb.” Trasys hold out one of the bulbs so Molly can see, and then motions to the ground. Molly starts to poke around the dirt, feeling it under his fingernails as he works. “I did call you here for an actual reason, Mollymauk.”

“I’d hope so,” Molly says, “I’m sure you could find better gardening partners than me.” Trasys chuckles at that, the sound charming but soft. “What can I do ya’ for?”

“I wanted to just discuss our expectations regarding our arrangement,” Trasys says, gently placing the bulb into the small hole Molly has dug. His well-manicured hands betray expertise with the way he gently presses the dirt back in place. “We agreed you were to help us find our kidnapper, but I would like to ask: what do you see that looking like?”

Molly blinks, clearing his throat as Trasys scoots down the row and motions for Molly to follow. He hands Molly a bulb and starts to dig another hole in the dirt, leaving a spot for Molly to work on his own. “Well,” Molly starts, following Trasys’ lead and working the soil, “I was telling the others - Fjord and the lot - the way I see the future is - well there’s nothing certain about the future and all I can see is a path the future _might_ take, depending on actions taken now.” Trasys nods, already on a second bulb as Molly fumbles with his first.

“But that’s not to say I’m never right,” Molly says. “I often am, but there is some room for error, especially if people hear my prophecies and act different than they would have.” He’s spinning his wheels, he knows.

“But perhaps hearing such a reading might end up creating a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts?” Trasys muses. “If one could avoid a future you predict by acting differently, might it not be the case that by _attempting_ to avoid that path we accidently might set ourselves on it?”

Molly chuckles. “Well, I’ve seen that happen too,” he says. Trasys nods to himself, taking in the bullshit Molly’s spewing with a thoughtful look.

“It reminds me of a speculative novel I read once - but that’s not the point,” Trasys says. He motions for Molly to continue while also handling him another bulb. They’re slowly but surely working their way down the row.

“Right, well,” Molly says, “I would assume my role would perhaps be a more… supplementary? I might be able to point us down the right path to finding the dastardly criminal, but I very much doubt I’d be able to just somehow _see_ who it is, if that makes sense.”

“It does, it does,” Trasys says.

“I also don’t mind helping out with the more direct portions of the investigation,” Molly says. “At the very least it would probably help to get to know the town.” Trasys nods.

“Also understandable,” he says. “What would you need for this?”

Molly purses his lips, thinking. “A bit of time to recover and prepare if I’m going to be doing that big of a reading. Asking that sort of thing is really gonna take a chunk out of me if I’m not careful. I’ll need various components too, some plants and maybe a mirror and any evidence we find - that sort of thing.”

“Easy enough to produce, I’ll fund it,” Trasys says. “How much time do you think you need?”

Molly swallows, looking down at where he’s pushing dirt around his last bulb. “A couple weeks, perhaps?” Trasys’ hands still.

“Two weeks is a lot of time when we are talking about a serial kidnapper,” Trasys says.

“It’s the best I’ve got, unless you want a foggy reading or me out of commission,” Molly says.

“I assume you’d be using the time effectively, and not…” Trasys trails, looking up at Molly with a warning in his eyes. Molly nods quickly.

“Of course, of course,” Molly says. “Call it a rest and research phase.” He grins his best grin, patting the dirt gently. He has to concentrate to keep his tail from thrashing behind him. Trasys eyes him for a long moment, and then turns his attention back to the dirt.

“Alright, two weeks it is,” Trasys says. “What exact components will you need?”

“Not sure yet,” Molly says, “depends on the exact nature of the reading I’ll do, and that’ll depend on the question we want to ask, which depends on what research and investigation gets done in that time.”

“You will let me or Caleb know as soon as you decide, in case it takes a little time to procure what you need,” Trasys says, no hint of a question. Molly nods again. They’ve reached the end of the row now and Trasys sits back on his heels. “Do you have any plans for the day?”

“Not particularly, I was thinking about walking the town now that I don’t have to busk on the street,” Molly says.

“Why don’t you sit down with Fjord and Beauregard and for a moment first, give your official statement about what happened at the carnival?” Trasys says. He does not look up, instead examining the gap between the last bulb and the wall. Molly smiles, brows furrowed slightly, a little bit confused.

“I figured you wouldn’t be interested in that,” Molly says, thinking just a second too late that perhaps it wasn’t the smartest thing to say to Trasys, the man currently holding his family in prison. But Trasys doesn’t look offended, he only sighs as he starts to dig one last hole in the ground.

“Molly, I understand you and I, and the rest of the court for that matter, got off on the wrong foot. If you feel perhaps angry or slighted or perhaps taken advantage of, I completely empathize. And I do want to make up for it.” Trasys takes the last bulb out of his bag and gently turns it over in his hands. “I truly believe that together, we can find whoever really is behind these kidnappings - now murder. I want to work with you to repair what was been tarnished between us, and I know the rest of the court feels the same.” Trasys places the bulb into the ground, and gently pushes the dirt over it. “We can do great things, Mollymauk, and I would like our relationship to both a positive and a _lengthy_ one.”

With that Trasys sits back on his heels and dusts his hands off. “So, how about it? Would you be willing to ah, turn over a new leaf, as it were?” He says this with a chuckle, gently rubbing the one tiny leaf growing from one of the tiny sprouts now sticking out of the ground.

Molly puts on his most charming smile, fighting down the riot in his gut. “That sounds just wonderful, my Lord,” he says. Trasys nods.

“Go see Fjord then, he’ll be waiting to take your statement,” he says. “I look forward to a prosperous and protracted friendship. Oh, and when you go into town, tell Fjord and Caleb I told them to accompany you. They might be able to help you figure out what you need magic-wise.” With that he makes a dismissive gesture and reaches for a watering can. Molly gives him one last bow, collects his coat from the path and walks back towards the door he came from.

_Prosperous and protracted friendship my ass,_ Molly thinks. _Once the carnival is free I’m out_.

\--------------

“...And that’s when you held a blade to my throat and decided to frame us,” Molly says, feet kicked against the table and leaning back on the back two legs of his chair. He sips at a glass of water, watching Fjord over the rim. Fjord puts his quil down with a sigh.

“Look, Molly -”

“Oh yes, please explain that little _charade_ ,” Molly says.

“Come on man,” Beau complains, sprawled over her chair in exasperation. “It’s not that big of a deal, let it go.”

“What she means is,” Fjord breaks in with a cough, “is all we’re tryna do is run a town that’s still not quite used to big crowds, and keepin’ the peace is pretty important, else we have a whole big mess on our hands. Givin’ the people a culprit would go pretty far in keeping’ in the peace.”

“Yeah, sure whatever,” Beau waves one hand in the air. “Point is, no one got hanged - hung? Is it hung?” She asks Fjord, looking over at him.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure its’ _hung_ ,” Fjord says.

“Hung. No one got hung, no harm no fowl. I mean, if you didn’t have those weird blood prophecy powers then yeah, some harm woulda been done, but it didn’t happen.”

“Well aren’t you just pleasant?” Molly says with a smirk. Beau flips him off without raising her head from where it’s leaning over the back of her chair. Molly sticks his tongue out at her and she just holds her hand in place.

Fjord clears his throat again. “So, you saw someone fucking with the side of the show tent, walked out, found footprints walking away into the woods and came back? You didn’t do anything about it?”

Molly turns his attention back to Fjord, letting his tail slink upwards slowly, out of sight. “I mean, I yelled into the woods for a second, but no, not really. I figured it was someone trying to catch a free show and giving up. People pull that shit all the time.”

“Ow!” Beau yanks her hand away from where Molly had hit her wrist with the spade of his tail.

“Didn’t your momma teach you it’s not nice to make obscene gestures?” Molly asks. Fjord puts his quill down and rubs the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

“You’re obscene,” Beau grumbles back. “Ob - obnoxious. You’re obnoxious.”

“Thank you!”

“Alright, I think we’re done here,” Fjord says. He pushes the scroll of paper and the quill at Molly. “Read it, make sure it’s accurate, then sign.” Molly sits forward, putting all four legs of his chair on the floor, reaching out one hand to pull the paper to him. He trails his fingernails along the page.

The jagged marks on the page _might_ be difficult to decipher, but Molly had no clue. He wouldn’t be able to read the neatest handwriting in the world. But he pretended to scan the page, as if he _could_ read, and at the very end he picked up the quill and scribbled something that looked vaguely like a signature.

Fjord took it back, checked it one last time, and then rolled it up and stuffed it in Beau’s desk. They were in her office, as Molly’s statement technically was security related, and - as Fjord had claimed - at least two people had to witness Molly giving his statement. Though, if you asked Molly, having _Fjord and Beau_ be those two witnesses still seemed a bit shifty to him. He had hoped he could bring in Jester, but apparently, she was busy.

Beau’s office was functional at _best_ , completely devoid of personal effects except for a few blue scarves and wraps on a shelf. Her desk was _covered_ in paper, and Fjord had needed to spend a few minutes organizing it for her to find an empty spot to write on. There were a couple of throwing stars embedded into the side of the empty bookcase, and there’s a few staffs leaning against one corner. Her chosen one rests propped up against the desk at her side.

“Okay Molly, you’re good. We’re done,” Fjord says. Beau leans forward finally.

“Great, get out of my office,” she says. Fjord and Molly both stand.

Bending low in a mocking flourish, Molly bows to Beau with an “as you wish my lady.” Beau scowls at him, lip curling dangerously. Fjord puts a hand on Molly’s shoulder and starts to pull him backwards out of the room.

“Why don’t we leave now, hm?” Fjord says, grip on Molly’s shoulder unrelenting. Fjord practically pulls Molly out of Beau’s office. “See you later Beau!”

Beau grunts a “bye” as Fjord shuts the door to her office behind him and Molly. A moment later, Fjord uncurls his hand from Molly’s shoulder, as if he only just realized how tightly he was holding on. Fjord sighs and straightens his own armor.

“Well, that was fun,” Molly says. Fjord looks over at him, his yellow eyes narrowed at Molly. For the first time, Molly notices his pupils are more slit-like than round.

“You know what would be even more fun? Not provoking Beau,” he says. Molly smiles.

“But that was the fun part!” Fjord just sighs again.

“If you need me, I’ll be in my office,” he says, turning to go. It’s Molly’s turn to reach out and grab Fjord by the shoulder.

“Wait,” he says. “I wanna go into town and Trasys wants you and Caleb to go with me.” Fjord looks at him over his shoulder, and lets out one last sigh.

“Fine,” he says. “I could go for a walk, but good luck getting Caleb to come down from his tower.”

Molly smiles. “I have faith we can swing it, can’t be too hard.” With that, he starts off in the direction of the east tower. Fjord follows a moment later, falling into step beside Molly. They’re about the same height, but Fjord carries himself like a man used to hard labor. His footfalls are heavy but not ungraceful, and Molly can see where his arms are toned and muscular.

The scabbard on Fjord’s back is empty again, his blade nowhere to be seen. On his ear are four little silvery metallic clasps, but those appear to be the only jewelry on him. There’s a tuft of pure white hair at the peak of his hairline, but other than that his hair is black and swept back from his face. He seems comfortable in the silence, but his eyes are trained straight ahead and his jaw is set shut.

They reach Caleb’s tower and the stairway up is exactly like Molly remembers. It spirals up in a tight circle, the stone steps cloaked in shadow. Molly can’t see very far up it at all. Fjord stops there at the base of the steps, but Molly puts his hand on the center wall and starts to climb.

“Hey, wait a minute -” Fjord says, but Molly waves him off.

“I know his lab’s off limits, but I’ll just go knock on his door,” Molly says. Fjord starts forward, going to grab his coat and stop him. Molly stands perched on the third step.

“I can just call him down, no big deal,” Fjord says. Molly frowns curiously, head tilted.

“I don’t mind walking up myself, what’s the big hullabaloo?”

“Caleb really doesn’t like people goin’ up there, and if he doesn’t like it, then Nott -”

A crossbow bolt slams into the wall, lodging itself in a crack between two stone bricks. Molly jumps back, fighting down the shock from his face and the thumping of his heart. “Who dares trespass in Widogast tower?!” Nott’s shrill voice comes from somewhere above him on the steps.

“- will probably try and shoot’cha,” Fjord finishes, mumbling.

Molly looks up the staircase, but he can’t spot her. The bolt in the wall sticks out threateningly. “It’s just me and Fjord!” He calls up. “We’re here to collect Caleb for a walk through town!”

“Oh yeah? Prove it!” Nott shouts back down. Molly purses his lips trying to keep from smiling. He has no idea if she can see him or not. Fjord sighs and reaches up to the ear with the clasps.

“Nott, it’s us. Trasys wants Caleb to go into town with us,” he says. There’s a moment of silence, and then Nott sticks her head around the corner. She’s not in disguise, in fact she has her teeth barred down at them and Molly can see her sharpened fangs poking out between snarling lips.

“Then why’d you come up the stairs then, huh?” She says, her crossbow leveled at Molly.

“To come get him?” Molly says. Fjord lets out another sigh.

“Molly’s still learning the rules, cut him some slack,” he says. Nott narrows her eyes down at the two of them but lowers her crossbow.

“Don’t scare us like that,” Nott says, “and get off the stairs.” Molly gives a little bow as he steps back off the stairs. He comes to stand by Fjord and Nott gives him one last hard look before she turns to scramble up the stairs. He hears the scritch-scratch of her claws on the stone disappear up and up until it’s inaudible.

“Yeah, so, don’t do that again,” Fjord says. “If she shoots you, it’ll be your fault.”

“Lesson learned,” Molly says, turning this new piece of information over in his head. _Tower Widogast,_ Nott had called it, so this really was _Caleb’s place_. Was he that much of a recluse that he’d rather his assistant shoot his visitors than have them come knocking on his door? The man wasn’t the most social creature Molly had ever witnessed, but that reaction certainly didn’t just come from social anxiety, did it? What was up there?

Molly’s curiosity swirled in his head even as the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs became clear. Caleb emerged from the staircase slowly, his big coat drawn up around him. He has bags under his eyes, and his hair is stringy where it hangs around his face.

“Trasys is forcing me on a walk then, _ja_?” Caleb mutters, pulling on the edges of his coat so that it closes further around him. Fjord nods and Caleb lets out a soft sigh. “Alright, where are we going?”

At this, Fjord looks to Molly who shrugs. “I wanted to get a feel for the town, see the abduction sites, that sort of thing. Gotta get a - a magical whiff of them, in a way.”

“Easily done,” Caleb says. “I’ve been meaning to get to the mines anyway. Let’s - ah - make this a short trip?”

“Yeah I gotta get down there myself,” Fjord says with a small clearing of his throat. Caleb motions them ahead down the hall, and they fall into a silent walk. From the periphery of his vision, Molly can see where Caleb rubs at his face with one hand, smearing what looks like dirt and ash around. His beard and hair look matted and unkempt, and Molly fights down the grimace as he gets that _haven’t bathed in a_ long _while_ scent from him. It’s not unfamiliar, Molly did work in a circus after all, but the man is a court wizard.

Caleb walks a step behind Molly, who is in turn a step behind Fjord, and with Fjord leading they pass through the gate easily. Out in the open street, Molly tries to slow his steps and fall in beside Caleb, but Caleb just slows down as well, keeping the distance. Molly presses his lips together, thinking. This man was certainly a curious fella, keeping his eyes down as they walked through the main streets of Tortham.

By pretending to look at various storefronts and stands, Molly can keep stealing glances of the court wizard. He knows he and Yasha decided getting Caleb on their side would be extremely useful - and it would, nothing on that front has changed - but if he refuses to even walk beside Molly, it might be a fruitless endeavor.

To be fair, Molly did ‘predict’ his failure, but this is a little bit ridiculous.

Molly picks up his pace and falls in line with Fjord. “So, uh, not gonna beat around the bush here, but is Caleb always…” he gives a little hand wave, keeping his voice down.

Fjord looks over at him from where he was watching a ribbon dancer as they passed by. “Always…?”

“Built into himself, quiet, ya’ know.”

Fjord clears his throat. “I mean he’s… yeah I’d call him ‘built into himself.’ He’ll start talking more the more he gets comfortable around ya’ but doesn’t come down from his tower much. Don’t take it personally, he’s just like that.”

Molly nods to himself. “Fair enough. Everyone’s their own person.” Molly pretends to get distracted by a child juggler, fishing a few loose coins from his pocket and tossing it into the girl’s bowl. But once again, he’s searching for Caleb behind them.

The farther they get into the crowd the harder it becomes to spot Caleb. He’s dirty and disheveled and looks like he belongs with the people begging for coin on the street. The more times Molly almost loses him in the crowd, the more puzzled he gets. _A powerful court wizard dressing like a beggar?_ Molly gets the impulse not to be seen - well, he understands _why_ one would want to be unseen, not that he’s ever shared that desire - but Caleb’s choice to stay hidden?

Caleb Widogast just gets more intriguing with everything Molly learns about him.

Fjord leads them out to the carnival grounds where the Moondrop tent is still standing. Crown’s Guard mill about, keeping an eye on the place and shooing away curious eyes, but they let the three of them through when they see Fjord. The footprints Molly saw last night are surprisingly intact, but there’s not many other clues left. All the circus tents are empty and abandoned, and it twists Molly’s stomach to see it devoid of the company of Moondrop’s.

Fjord also leads them to another spot by the tree line to the western portion of town. The walk over is silent, and Molly ends up playing with his horn jewelry to relieve some of the nervous tension inside him. He _needs_ to find something at one of these abduction sites to give him a point in the right direction. The place Fjord stops seems like a completely innocuous patch of land, but on second glance Molly can see where the tree bark has been seared with _something_ , presumably a magic-induced scarring.

“Yeah, so, farmer over there -” Fjord points to a small farmhouse that sits in a cordoned off section of pasture where cows meander around - “heard a commotion in the late afternoon, saw some spells going off. According to him, an elven looking person tried to run from the trees, and then two figures in hoods pulled him back in. A few more spells, and then silence.”

Molly nods, examining the injury to the trees. On closer inspection, the bark almost looks like it’s been _rotted away_. It’s black and looks eaten through, the damage going deep into the core of the tree.

“Necrotic damage,” Caleb says. “Presumably, at least. There’s a chance it could be splash damage from a Ray of Enfeeblement.” Molly nods. He really doesn’t know the first thing about magic. He barely understands his own freaky blood abilities. He considers going along like he does, but he’ll put himself at a disadvantage if he has to fake the same base of knowledge as a court wizard.

“Pretend like I don’t have any formal training, because I don’t, and explain what Ray of Enfeeblement does?” Molly asks, looking over at Caleb. Fjord’s brows furrow slightly, but Caleb nods.

“It is a spell that, ah, weakens a person. It takes some of their strength away, makes them less effective in combat.”

“Take away the elf’s ability to fight, make it easier to secret them away to wherever you’re going,” Molly says.

“That’s what we thought too,” Fjord says.

“Great minds think alike,” Molly says with a grin. He glances around the area again. “You didn’t find one of those gems here, did you?” Fjord shakes his head. “Speaking of…?”

“I still don’t quite know what it’s used for,” Caleb says, in that halting way of his. “It is non-magical, so presumably it’s a spell component, but lots of spells use gems like that one.”

“I’d like a look at it sometime,” Molly says. There’s not much more in this spot, just the residual damage to the trees, and Molly consigns himself to not getting much out of this spot either.

Caleb’s “short trip” turns into what almost amounts to a walking tour of the outskirts of Tortham. The victim count is eleven, including the three spirited away at the carnival and the dead boy, but only the _known_ victim count. According to Fjord, there are many more missing people cases, but without being sure who was kidnapped by this group and who met other fates, they don’t feel comfortable expanding the official count.

But there is a reoccurring theme - spells from the forest, hooded figures and no trace of either the victim or the kidnappers.

“There’s no drag marks or wagon trails or hoof-prints,” Fjord says when they’re stopped out back of a small antiques shop, abandoned now that the owner was grabbed up by the hooded people. “We presume that they’re being carried away by hand, but there aren’t any footprints either.”

“Seems the only reason we know there’s a pattern is that they keep slipping up and getting seen flinging spells about,” Molly says, perched on an old crate. The tree line is almost eighty feet away from the back of the shop. “How the hell did these people get a kidnapping victim to the tree line without being seen in the middle of the afternoon?”

“Well, the witness spooked at the occurrence of spells and ran,” Fjord says. “They didn’t actually see a body getting carried into the forest.”

Molly looks around. The antiques shop isn’t in the most populous area of town, but there are a few shops and homes around. _No one seriously saw someone carrying a human man to the forest?_ There’s something significant there, Molly knows, but it’s just another part of the mystery for now.

Sitting there, staring at the open space of grass between the store and the forest, the knowledge of what he’s doing sinks in for the very first time. He has to solve a kidnapping, basically by himself.

_Fuck me_ , Molly thinks, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. It’s starting to become quite the refrain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mystery's only getting more mysterious, and Molly's only getting more fucked.
> 
> See you Sunday


	6. Molly Manhandles Some Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fjord fucks off, Caleb questions, and Yasha gives cuddles

At some point in the walk over to the mines, Fjord breaks the odd silence by throwing his head back with a groan, his shoulders drooping.

“Goddamn it, fine,” he mutters. He shoots a look at Caleb, who only nods, and then Fjord starts to take a turn off the path and back into town.

“Wait, what’s going on?” Molly asks. Fjord looks over at him, surprised, as if he’d forgotten that Molly was even there.

“I, uh, forgot about a thing I have to go do in town,” he says. “Gotta clear up an issue with some merchants. I’ll see you both back at the castle.” And before Molly can ask any other questions, Fjord turns off the path and walks away. Molly looks over at Caleb inquisitively, but the wizard only sighs and starts back down towards the mines.

Molly frowns, but swallows down his confusion. Fjord’s retreating form tugs at his curiosity, but he’s got more important things to do right now than wonder over whatever _that_ interaction just was. He catches up to Caleb, falling into step beside him, and smiles at him. Caleb scoots away to place a little more space between them.

“So, we’re off to the mines then,” Molly says. Caleb nods and grunts an affirmative. When his head shifts, his stringy hair parts around his ear and Molly catches a glimpse of three little clasps around the shell of it.

When Caleb doesn’t offer anything else, Molly tries again. “Tortham’s a nice little town.”

“Not very little any more,” Caleb remarks. Molly feels a little thrill of success at getting the man to speak. Molly chuckles.

“No, no I suppose not. Did you see that fire dancer on our way here? Only big towns tend to get those.”

“ _Ja_ , I did.”

“Their technique was a little shoddy, Orna’s a whole lot better. Did you meet Orna? One of the people in my circus, kinda uptight. Danced with fire fans?” Molly asks, leaning closer to Caleb, who only nods. “Well, they didn’t burn anyone, so I guess it was alright. No flair though.” He cocks an eyebrow, but if Caleb catches the pun he doesn’t laugh.

Molly stifles a sigh. He needs to get on Caleb’s good side, but Caleb won’t even look over at him. Caleb just keeps his eyes planted on the ground ahead of them. Molly doesn’t let up though, he tries everything he can think of to engage Caleb in casual conversation. Caleb offers a phrase at most. Just as Molly is starting to get frustrated, Caleb lifts a hand and points forward.

“The mines are right here,” he says. In front of them is a small outpost with a row of smelters lined up on the ground. A hill rises above them, the entrance to the mine built into it and going down. There are crates scattered around with various labels - picks, tnt, processed ore, etc. A few men, built large and heavy mill about the entrance, shoveling ore and coal into the smelter, moving raw ore around like the rocks weigh nothing. The sunlight glints off of the grey ore, betraying the valuable silver hidden inside the otherwise dull covering.

Caleb waves to someone - the forman presumably - and they get a jerk of a head in response. Molly attracts a few eyes, but Caleb is almost completely ignored.

“We’ve had a worker get carried off around closing time,” Caleb says. “Vanished from right around here.” Molly glances about and finds that once again, they’re surrounded by nothing but open field. Molly looks back over at Caleb and for the first time, the wizard is looking at him with those piercing eyes. “Your expression is puzzled. Copper for your thoughts?”

Molly swallows, suddenly feeling pinned in place by that gaze. “Well,” Molly says, playing with the edges of his coat, “I can’t help but notice that some of these abduction sites aren’t the most inconspicuous. And you said someone vanished around here?” Caleb nods. “Well, where did they go? I’d assume the mines have been searched, and if you look around there’s nothing but empty fields for a while. How can someone _vanish_ from here, especially if they were dragged off against their will? It was closing time, there should have been people around to see someone getting pulled across these open fields.”

Caleb nods. “That is the, ah, the problem, isn’t it?”

“The same with the antiques shop! What was that, eighty feet to carry someone without getting spotted in daylight? I would call it lucky, if it weren’t for…” Molly motions around himself at the empty hills.

“I must admit, the question has been plaguing me as well.” Caleb looks up and out over the expanse of grass.

“Guy attempts to snatch a kid in the middle of a crowd by just carrying him off in his arms, but why do that when they can make people vanish into thin air?”

“Why, indeed?” Caleb is standing next to him now, rubbing one hand on his beard. “I don’t suppose it is prudent to ask you if you’ve caught any sort of premonition or… whatever it is you feel?”

Molly scrunches up his face, shuts his eyes and breathes in deep. All he smells is overturned earth and heady sweat. In his mind’s eye he tries to recall the area, scanning it for any hint of something safe to say. Large men, ore, pickaxes, explosives -

He exhales and opens his eyes. “I’m getting a small hint of… something… gritty, metallic? And heat?” Molly just throws words out into the air, hoping something will stick. “Trying to conserve energy here, Mr. Caleb, but I am getting waves of heat.”

Caleb looks over at him, head tilted curiously. His eyes narrow, as if searching Molly, and it sends a strange bolt of electricity down Molly’s spine. Caleb takes a breath as if to say something but he’s interrupted by a harsh voice.

“‘Scuse me, Widogast,” the voice says. Molly turns to find the foreman standing there, flanked by two men. They’re all very will built, burly fellows, and the foreman is a dwarf with a thick, braided beard. “But uh, some of the boys have heard rumors about some sorta… prophet, was it?” He looks back at the two men behind him. They both nod and grunt affirmatives. “And they won’t let up on it so just get it out of their system, is this purple fella it?”

Molly’s eyebrows go up at ‘purple fella.’ He feels Caleb shift awkwardly next to him. Molly smiles, battering down the annoyance over being talked _about_ like that.

“Why yes, I _am_ a prophet,” Molly says before Caleb can say anything. The foreman looks a little surprised Molly would speak first. One of the miners swats the other on the shoulder. “Mollymauk Tealeaf, pleasure.” He extends his hand for him to shake, and the foreman does so, his grip overly crushing. Molly does his best to return the strength, but knows he doesn’t do a good job. Instead, he’s pushing the wince down and away, hoping none of his nails cracked under the grip. Molly pulls his hand away, trying not to shake it out or nurse it.

“Uh, Yumrag Ironmaker,” the foreman says. His voice sounds caked in coal dust.

“You can see the future?” One of the miners, a half orc with huge curved tusks asks. Molly nods.

“With mild clarity,” he says. The half-orc looks fairly impressed, she nods as if confirming something with herself.

“Mild clarity, huh?’ Ironmaker asks. Molly nods once again.

“It never does to oversell one’s abilities,” Molly says, feeling the irony of the words curl in his mouth.

“So, what exactly can you… do?” Ironmaker says, hesitantly, hedging. Molly tilts his head.

“What would you like me to do?” He asks. Ironmaker flushes pink, having been caught out. He glances back at the other two miners, who both nod excitedly. Ironmaker coughs, clears his throat.

“Well, uh, we seem to have lost one of the offshoots of silver. You wouldn’t be able to maybe do somethin’ about that, would you?”

Molly smiles apologetically. “I’m supposed to be resting my powers, darling, I don’t think -”

“We just heard you talking about feeling heat!” The half-orc bursts in. “Come on, just a little help. We’ll be behind otherwise.” Ironmaker shoots her a look, but it doesn’t cow her. Molly bites the inside of his cheek. _Fuck,_ he thinks to himself, _fuck fuck fuck_. He glances over at Caleb, who shrugs.

“If it wouldn’t exhaust you too much. Something the strength of your street readings perhaps?” Caleb suggests, seemingly casual but his bright blue eyes are searching him carefully. Molly smiles.

“Okay, a _small_ one. May not give you much,” Molly warns, turning back to Ironmaker. Ironmaker nods, obviously trying to keep his excitement off his face.

“Anything you got would help,” Ironmaker says. Thinking quickly, Molly looks around and then grabs a hunk of the unprocessed silver. It’s one of the smaller ones, just small enough to hold in one hand, but it’s still pretty hefty. You could probably brain someone pretty good with it. But Molly doesn’t chuck it at someone’s head, despite the fact the mental image of him collecting a piece of silver, pausing dramatically and then beaning someone with it almost makes him snicker.

Instead he places his other hand on top of the rock, breathes in and shuts his eyes. He takes a few long, steady breaths, mutters a few words in infernal, and then opens his eyes again. Holding the rock out in front of him like a guide, he starts to make his way into the mine. “Come on then, keep up!” he shouts when he realizes that Ironmaker is just standing there, confused. “I’m not stopping!”

And he doesn’t stop. The first portion of mine shaft goes down for only maybe ten feet or so before it starts to split off in either direction left or right. There are workers milling about here too, moving carts both empty and full in all directions. There’s a wooden table against the carved out wall, placed just in the middle of the intersection, and there’s various papers scattered about beside a lit oil lantern. He thinks he spots what looks like a scrap of map, but he can’t get a good look at it without appearing suspicious. As he approaches the intersection, it fully settles in that he has no hint of any idea what to do now.

_Fuck it_ , he thinks, and goes right. He jerks his arms to the side as if the rock is pulling him along beyond his control, chuckles gently, and mutters “okay, okay, you don’t have to be feisty,” as he “follows” it. Caleb, Ironmaker and those two workers are following dutifully behind, the half orc woman’s eyes are wide, her hands fidget in excitement.

The mine shaft curves gently to the left, creating the slightest of arc inward, and on the either side smaller shafts shoot off, some abandoned and some still full of workers hefting pick axes against the wall and collecting hunks of rock. The sound of steel striking stone reverberates around the mine, loud and skull crushing. Molly decides that going down any of the abandoned offshoots is probably not a good idea, he needs to make a decent guess as to where there might be silver.

The curve is starting to double back in on itself when Molly jerks left, heading deeper into the mine. He chooses one of the populated offshoots, pushes past a few workers and is a little surprised when he finds that it opens up into another perpendicular path, heading left and right, running parallel to that first long, curved shaft. Molly jerks left again, find that this curving path has offshoots in either direction as well, some heading back to the last shaft, some heading deeper. He walks until he finds a section where there is no tunnel to the right, heading deeper, and stops.

Molly hears his entourage stop as well, and when he risks a glance back he sees he’s picked up a couple more stragglers. He points the rock in his hands at the right wall, lets it waver around, jerk him back and forth slightly, and then settle. There’s a breathless silence from everyone, Molly lets it hang for a moment, and then pulls the rock into his chest.

“Here,” Molly says. “You’ll wanna dig here.”

Ironmaker and Caleb both come forward, staring at the empty expanse of ragged rock wall in front of Molly. “Here?” Ironmaker says. “We can get back to the vein here?”

Molly shrugs. “I asked it to show me the most fortuitous path, and it points here.” Caleb reaches out and places a hand on the wall, brows furrowed. Ironmaker stares at the wall as if he could see through it to find the silver vein again.

“That hunk of silver give you any more details than that?” Ironmaker asks. Molly shakes his head. Ironmaker lets out a grunt. “Here’s hoping then.” He turns, whistles at the gathered onlookers. “Alright you slack-jawed idiots, show’s over. Get over here and start diggin’.”

The small mob of miners jerk into action, swarming the area and getting to work. Caleb and Molly both are gently jostled until they finally step out of the way. Caleb crosses his arms over his chest and they stand together, ignored now that Molly’s usefulness seems to have run its course.

“So, do we stand here until they strike rich?” Molly asks. Caleb worries his lip between his teeth, obviously halfway lost in thought.

“It will ah, take a while,” Caleb says. “Besides, I am confident in your seeing abilities.”

“Why thank you,” Molly says. “Many people aren’t.”

“You warned me to my calculation error, did you not?” Caleb doesn’t look at him while he speaks, and it’s very soft. Molly cocks an eyebrow, gives an acknowledging head tilt.

“I suppose I did.” He looks over at Caleb, and perhaps the odd angles of lamplight are simply catching his face wrong, but he looks a little bit more tired, gaunter than he did when they walked into the mine. “You said you needed something here?”

Caleb startles a little. “Uh, _ja,_ just needed to speak to Ironmaker. Got it done while we were following you.” Molly purses his lips, Again, he feels like Caleb isn’t being wholly honest, but he’s in no position to be calling Caleb out for lying, is he?

“Great!” Molly turns around, blinks and looks over at Caleb sheepishly. “You wouldn’t happen to know the way out, do you? I wasn’t exactly paying the most attention to the path I took.”

Caleb’s lips twitch upward for a moment, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth but then it’s gone in the next second. He nods, and starts down the mine shaft, away from the workers excitedly carving into the stone where Molly said the silver was. _Moonweaver, please let there be something there_.

Caleb leads him through one of the abandoned offshoots back to the larger curve, and then they start back towards the entrance. “The mines were the last abduction site, right?” Molly asks. Caleb nods. “Cool, I’ve got a few thoughts as to what I’d like to do.”

“Copper for them?” Caleb asks. They both press to the side to avoid a minecart being pushed by a human man.

“So, I can’t just ask “where are the kidnapped victims?” that’s not the future, that’s the present. So we gotta come up with a way to word the question that puts the answer in the future,” Molly says.

“Hence why you asked for the ‘most fortuitous path’ instead of directly looking for silver,” Caleb says. Molly nods.

“Exactly. The fortuitous path question might work in our situation as well.”

“It’s vague,” Caleb says.

“But easier on me,” Molly counters.

“Could we ask something like “where _will_ we find the kidnapped people?” Caleb asks just as they emerge from the mine and into the daylight. Molly blinks a couple of times, trying to readjust to the sun.

“We could, but that amount of detail might actually do some damage,” Molly says. Caleb looks at him sharply.

“Do you mean it would just weaken you or…?”

Molly shrugs. “I’ve never tried that level of detail. I don’t know what would happen.” He watches Caleb carefully out of the corner of his eye, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. He feels his stomach twist under Caleb’s scrutiny. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable trying that.” There’s a pause as Caleb digests Molly’s words, but then he nods.

“It likely won’t come to that,” he says. “We should get thinking on the question. Do you have an idea for what components you’ll need?” He asks the question with a curious expression, eyes expectant and for a second Molly is caught off guard by just how _blue_ they are. Just like last time, Caleb’s searching gaze makes something in Molly’s body twist and dance.

“Um, probably a mirror?” Molly says, swallowing that feeling. It has to be fear that Caleb can see right through him. Well, _fingers crossed_ that Caleb’s just accepting what he says at this point. “Usually pretty standard, broke mine a week back traveling unfortunately.” Caleb nods.

“A mirror can be produced. Anything else?”

They’re getting back into the town now, and the crowds start to grow around them again. They talk about what Molly might need for his ‘reading,’ and it’s mostly Molly dodging the question and spitting out the first words that come to his mind. As they get closer however, he watches as Caleb just sort of shrinks into himself. It’s slight, but with the attention Molly’s been paying attention in an attempt to read him, he notices. Caleb walks on the side of the street, trying to pull away from any of the dozens of strangers they pass.

“I might just need to go perusing shops and find what calls to me,” Molly says. “My stuff isn’t really an exact science.” He swears he sees the corners of Caleb’s mouth twitch upward.

“Right, well, you can do that anytime,” Caleb says. “It is nearing dinner, however, and if you would like to catch the prepared meal we should probably get back soon.”

“Hell yeah, lets go,” Molly says. The rest of the walk is silent between the two of them. Caleb keeps to his side of the street and while Molly tries to keep with him, sometimes the way the crowd moves and pulses puts distance between him and Caleb. He always keeps his eyes on him, however. Caleb blends in so well Molly’s a little afraid he’ll lose him.

They do get to the castle gates together, and the guard let them pass without question. As they get into the entryway, Molly turns to Caleb one last time. “Hey, don’t tell Yash I did two tiny readings, okay? I’d rather not get a scolding.”

Once again, there’s that twitch of amusement on Caleb’s face, those eyes turning on Molly once again. “Do not worry Mr. Mollymauk, your secret is safe with me,” he says. Molly swallows, his throat suddenly strangely dry.

“Thanks,” Molly says. They turn the corner to the mess hall, and once again that wall of noise hits Molly in one giant wave. He peers out over the hall and spots the court - along with Yasha - in the same place they were this morning, already starting to dig in. He takes the step down onto the dining hall floor, but Caleb doesn’t. In fact, when Molly looks for him, Caleb has just vanished. He’s not making his way to the table or the food counter, he’s just gone.

_What a strange man,_ Molly thinks as he makes his way to the table, _must have gone up to Widogast tower or something_.

\--------------

“First day status report,” Molly says as he and Yasha are climbing into bed that night. “I think Caleb is, at the very least, convinced I’m a seer.”

“You _think?_ ” Yasha asks. Molly nods.

“He didn’t like, outright state ‘hey, I believe you unconditionally,’ or anything, but I think he’s sold. Can’t tell if he’s sympathetic to us yet, though.”

“Keep at it,” Yasha says. “You’ll pull it off.”

“Thanks Yasha. What happened to you today?”

“Mostly got left alone. I did have a talk with Trasys,” she says. “Mostly just asked if I had anything I wanted or needed to settle in here.”

“Did he make you garden too?” Molly asks, a slip of laughter in his voice.

“We reshelved books in his library.”

Molly lets out a small snort of laughter that gives way to sigh. “Day one in the bag,” he mutters. Yasha nods. “Day two on the way.”

Yasha turns on her side and pulls him into her chest, and they fall asleep like that, clinging to each other through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Sunday!


	7. Molly Lies To Yet Another Person Just Trying To Help Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb is validated, a street sign is abused and Fjord brings surprising news.

The next three days are like throwing your head against a brick wall, trying to smash it with the force of your cranium and your cranium only. Molly is not an experienced investigator, he’s honestly probably investigated only a few things in his short life, and nothing so serious as a serial kidnapping. It doesn’t help that he has to do all this investigating while pretending he’s not. He does get his hands on the victim list and all the missing persons files, but they don’t give him anything but a headache. Yasha has to read it all to him, and it takes forever. He takes one or two trips into town, hits up the abduction sites again, asks around after a few of the missing persons but get nada.

Sometimes Yasha accompanies him out but she’s worse at people than he is and gets no farther than him. She can’t find anything at the abduction sites either, and they end up throwing up their hands and giving up on that.

Magical research is a dud as well, Molly’s practically illiterate and Yasha doesn’t know anything about magic beyond her own abilities. Lots of Trasys’ library is writings of a magical nature, but they don’t know where to start, and there’s so many books it’s almost impossible to figure it out.

Which is why Molly is staring, emptily, at the open pages of a book that sits open on the table before him. It’s the short side of midnight the night of the third day and Molly doesn’t really know what he’s doing. Maybe he thought if he cracked open a book, then this time he could magically be able to read. If so, then no dice. The printed script in front of him is still incomprehensible save for a few words here and there - “the” is a favorite, as is “a,” “and,” and the occasional use of “escort.”

He rubs his forehead with one hand. Maybe he ought to just stab himself _now_ and get it over with. He’s got nothing - no leads, no clues, not even the ability to read.

“How the fuck am I supposed to do this?” He asks the empty air.

“Perhaps, _ah_ , with a bit more light to see by?”

Molly looks up and sees Caleb hovering there, between two shelves of books, holding a lit candle in one hand and a book tucked under the other arm. How Molly didn’t see him or his light slip by and into the shelves, he doesn’t know.

“I can see fine in the dark, but thank you,” Molly says. Caleb swallows, wavers on his feet and then takes a step forward.

“Is there perhaps something I could help you with?” Caleb asks, and Molly is a bit surprised at the offer. He hasn’t seen Caleb at all over the last three days, not even at meals. Nott has scurried down to the mess, grabbed two plates of food and carried them back up the tower. No one else seemed particularly concerned about Caleb’s continuing absence, but Molly had been curious.

“Oh, I’m just… trying to get a beat on what components I might need for this reading,” he says. Caleb puts his candle and book down on Molly’s table. He leans over and looks at Molly’ book, and then his lips twist in amusement again.

“Mr. Mollymauk, I regret to inform you that you are currently reading a book on the political relations between early Tal’Dorei and its neighbors.”

“I know,” Molly protests. “I’m just getting desperate, is all.” Caleb almost actually smiles this time.

“Well, I have read that particular book, and I promise you there’s nothing helpful for you in there,” he says. “Unless of course, you _are_ interested in political history.”

“Not particularly,” Molly says, shutting the book. He’d just picked one off the shelf, but he swore he had at least picked from one of the many magical information sections.

“Would you like me to fetch you a more appropriate text?” Caleb asks. Molly thinks for a moment.

“No, I should probably be going to bed soon,” he says. _No point anyway,_ he adds in his head, _it’s not like I could read it_. He eyes the book Caleb put down on the table. “What are you working on?”

Caleb glances down at the book and hums. “I’m trying to… ah, how to explain,” he fiddles with the cover of the book for a minute. “I’m trying to recreate a very complicated and rare spell.”

“Recreate it?” Molly asks.

“Every report or recording of it has different instructions, and I’m trying to find the true version, if you will,” Caleb says. “Everyone has different measurements of components and I would very much like to not fuck it up.”

“Like your near mistake a few days ago?” Molly asks.

“The very same,” Caleb replies. They both sit there in silence for a moment, Caleb’s fingers absentmindedly tracing the indented lettering on the leather cover of his book. Molly has no chance to discern what it says, the script is looping and convoluted and he couldn’t even pick out a single letter like that. Molly bites his lip, glancing up to Caleb’s face, finding him staring into the near distance, lost in thought.

Molly clears his throat. “So, I’ve got a question, if you don’t mind,” he says. Caleb hums in response, eyes refocusing and sliding over to Molly’s shoulder. “Why the hobo look?”

Caleb blinks, his shoulders shift beneath his ratty coat. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, you’re a court wizard and you literally have a second skin of dirt. No judgements, been there done that, but it seems like you could choose another look. Like, why the coat?” Molly cocks his head, trying to read the way Caleb’s hands - wrapped up in bandages - come up and fiddle with the furred lapels of it.

“It is… very old and comfortable,” Caleb says. “I am used to it.”

“You know what?” Molly asks, leaning back in his chair. “ _That_ is an incredibly valid answer. Consider me satisfied.”

Caleb blinks again, face contorted in surprise. Caleb is generally an uncomfortable looking creature, but in this moment he looks like he doesn’t even feel right in his own dirt. “...thank you?”

“No problem,” Molly says. Caleb picks up his book off the table and tucks it beneath his arm.

“Well, I think I will be off then. Work waits.” Without any other preamble or excuse, Caleb turns around and disappears back into the shelves, disappearing the way Molly knows the exit to be. Caleb’s candle is still flickering softly on the table, and for a second Molly thinks about calling after him about it, but he lets it go.

Instead, Molly turns their short conversation over in his head again. Had Caleb simply been uncomfortable with the question? He was a generally skittish and reclusive man, maybe that had been too intrusive. _What a strange little scared man,_ Molly thinks.

He blows out the candle and goes to bed, collapsing in next to Yasha’s already slumbering form.

\--------------

The fourth day finds Molly once again wandering through the streets of Tortham, trying to see if anything sparks any ideas. The town is starting to become familiar, the main streets and market places at the very least are starting to etch themselves in Molly’s memory. He walks past the usual vendors, paying no mind to their street barking. Performers, not so many out today as usual, try and attract attention and coin under cloudy skies.

The usual shop fronts hold no promise for him - he’s canvassed up and down, speaking to every shop keep briefly only to find that none of them have any leads. By the time he reaches the place the main street starts to narrow out and stretch out of town, he’s a bit dejected, staring at the horizon with pursed lips and an awful desire to just _run_. He’s got absolutely nothing but a few more days, and unless he gets beyond lucky, his little charade is probably going to be torn down then.

Luck, as one would have it, comes in the form of a little street easel Molly nearly trips over.

The tiny blackboard sign is placed a little to far into the sidewalk to be anything but obstructive, but with Molly’s head a week away to his execution, he doesn’t notice and instead almost ends up on his face. He manages to catch himself and the sign both, keeping it from clattering onto the ground.

“Damn thing nearly killing me early,” he mutters as he replaces it, putting it gently a little closer to its respective shop front. As he sets it back in place, it rocks gently, settling on only three of its four legs, and Molly wonders how many unfortunate pedestrians have run into it. As he takes his hand away, he gets a look at it. He can’t read the words, but under the large, simple script is a drawing of a wand and a bag of what looks like various items; gems, insect pieces, and various plants and leaves.

It takes Molly a moment to comprehend what that means, and in fact he’s a shop or two down the street before he stops, whirls around and runs back. The area of town this little magic shop is out of the way and secluded enough that he doubts any questions he’d ask about magic here would ever make it to the ears of anyone else.

The store itself looks plain on the outside, a small sign hanging above the door with the same iconography from the easel done in cut out metal. The door itself is the only thing adorned in from the front, and still that is only a tiny stained-glass window, opaque and small, made up of reds, blues and greens.

Molly pushes open the door and finds an explosion of color and plant life. It’s almost dizzying, the rush of scent that hits his nose, old and new greenery, fruit, and various flowers filling the air until it’s heavy with nature. Between the overgrown plants that spill across the shelves and floor, there are jars and bowls filled with colorful insects, gems and other assorted spell components. By the door is a large bowl containing nothing but soft, white sand.

As the door shuts, there’s a call of “Hello, hello!” from somewhere behind the shelves. “Take a look around! I’ll be with you in a minute!” Molly hears something crash from the direction of the voice. “Make that two minutes!”

Molly takes a step forward through the shop, breathing through his mouth to keep the smell from distracting him or giving him a headache. As he makes his way in the direction of the voice, he scans the shelves. A jar of lightning bugs - holes drilled in the top - catches his eye as the bugs twist and squirm inside. A yellow flowering plant drapes across a shelf, long tendrils trailing across a few assorted books.

And there, at the end of one of the shelves, in a big bowl, is a bundle of assorted gemstones of all different sizes and colors. Molly’s eyes light up as he sees small red stones like the one the kidnapper dropped in the woods, if much smaller. He picks one up and holds it up to the magical braziers lining the walls. It refracts the light and spills a gentle red color across his hand.

“Ahh, looking for gems, are we?” Comes the voice again, this time just to Molly’s right. He looks and finds a small halfling woman, dressed in patchwork overalls and an bright multicolored shirt. Her hair is stuck out from her head in odd directions, and there looks to be drying gelatinous substance on the outside of her left leg. “I’ve got all sorts, good for minor spells and enchantments. Bigger ones too, but I keep those in the back.”

Molly swallows, thinking fast. “Yes, hello, hi, I was, well, I’m a bit new to the arcane arts and I need to pick up some sort of gem for a spell and I’ve plum forgotten exactly what I need.”

The halfling woman nods. “Yeah, nope, happens to me all the time, and I’ve been doing it all my life. What’s the spell you’re trying to cast?”

Molly smiles, it’s not hard to put on the air of a sheepish, slightly embarrassed caster as his own nerves over the situation twist his insides. “Well, see, that’s the _other_ problem…”

The halfling woman’s eyebrows rise, then she chuckles and shakes her head. “Wizard, right?”

“Yeah, how could you tell?” Molly asks.

“You all have your heads somewhere else, keep forgetting the practical side of things,” she says. “But lets see if Maureen can’t get you sorted. Come on.” She leads Molly to the counter where she pulls out a couple of books from behind it, places them on the counter, and hops up on a stool so she’s eye height with him. “What exactly are you trying to do?”

“Well, um,” Molly rubs the bauble of one of his horn chains between two fingers. “Okay, it’s not actually _for_ me, it’s for my mentor and he’s always sorta, you know,” he waves with one hand in a vague manner. “He _said_ it’s for something to like… make someone disappear? Move someone from place to place without being seen?”

Maureen frowns, grabs one of the books and starts flipping through it. “Invisibility? No, that doesn’t require any sort of gem. Transportation Circle requires gems, but ground up and put in chalk or ink. Is that it?”

Molly shakes his head. “It’s a _whole_ gem. Bigger than the ones in that bowl.”

“Is that the only component?”

“It’s certainly one of them,” he says. Maureen looks up at him.

“You’re not giving me much to work with kid.”

“I know, but my mentor didn’t give me much, and if I show up without it he’ll make me scrub the floors with a toothbrush again.”

Maureen grimaces with sympathy. “Well, we’ll get this.” She turns back to the book. “ _Big_ gem then, real expensive.” She flips to the back few pages and thumbs through. She chews her lip as she scans, muttering quietly to herself. She asks a few more questions, cross references a few sections against each other and Molly’s (admittedly vague and unhelpful) answers.

“So, I’ve got two options for ya’, and they’re both pretty high level. One requires a diamond and the other can use any fairly translucent gem,” she says, holding two sections of pages between her fingers.

“The second!” Molly says, leaning forward over the counter. “He said it doesn’t require a diamond specifically.”

Maureen nods, flattens the pages to one of her marked sections and pushes the book over to where Molly can see. “Imprisonment, then.”

_Imprisonment,_ Molly thinks, hope filling his chest again for the first time in a few days. “What’s it exactly do?”

“Well, it uses your really expensive gem - or you got a couple other options too - to imprison a person within it. The target -” she leans over to read from the book directly - “is shrunk down to a height of one inch and is imprisoned inside a gemstone.”

Molly’s eyes widen. “Holy shit, holy shit that’s it!” He grins wide, tail flicking about on its own. Maureen smiles smugly, leaning back from the counter. “Maureen, you’re a lifesaver!”

“I try,” she says. “So, the cost of the gem will change depending on how strong the person you’re trying to trap is. Which, this is quite a strong and… devious sounding spell. Any idea why your mentor wants to cast it?”

Molly shakes his head. “I think he just wants to try it out. He’s that type. I’ll probably end up inside the gem, if I’m being honest.” Maureen eyes him for a moment, brows furrowed, but nods.

“So, how big of a gem?”

“Um,” Molly thinks for a moment, and then holds up his fingers in the rough approximation of the size of the confiscated gem. “He said about this big.” Maureen nods, tells him she’ll be right back, and then disappears behind a door.

Molly feels like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin. _They’re trapping their victims in gems!_ That’s how they’re sneaking whole people away from town and across the fields. The spell Molly interrupted in the forest that night would have put that boy inside the ruby Caleb now has. Holy _shit_ Molly actually figured something out! _Holy shit_ he’s bought himself more time.

Maureen comes back out with a corundum the rough size Molly indicated. She clambers back up on the stool and drops it in front of him. “Here you go, this will work. It’ll run you couple thousand gold.”

Molly’s eyes bug out of his head. “A couple thousand?!” Who are these people that they have access to that sort of spell component, multiple of them even?. Maureen just nods.

“It’s a hefty spell, it requires hefty components.”

Molly frowns, goes for his coin purse, starts to count out a few pieces, but then sighs. “He didn’t give me enough. I’ll have to be back.”

Maureen frowns and looks at him with concern. “Will you be alright?”

Molly nods, putting his purse back. “Hey, it’s his fault. Should have known how much it was going to cost.”

Maureen nods slowly, eyes flickering with something. “Just, don’t let him give you shit.”

Molly grins wide. “Don’t you worry. I’m sure I’ll be back at some point to pick that up. Keep it on hold, would you?”

Maureen agrees to hold it, and Molly leaves her shop feeling like he’s on top of the world. Thank the Moonweaver, he’s got something.

But then it hits him, if he can figure this out with a few questions to a competent magic user, who knows how much longer it’ll take Caleb to find the answer too. It didn’t seem like he knew a few days ago, and Molly assumes he’d have been told if Caleb had made that kind of breakthrough.

If he’s going to make good use of this discovery, he’s either going to have to act fast or find a way to keep Caleb from figuring it out first.

He practically runs back to the castle, and finds Yasha out by the guard's quarters, swinging her large greatsword at a burlap dummy. She lopes off it’s head just as Molly runs up to her.

“Yasha, holy fuck!” He says, pulling on her shoulder. She stands solid, turning to look at him and lowering her blade. There’s sweat running down her pale face, and she rolls her shoulders out as Molly pulls her to the side, away from prying ears before unloading his discovery on her.

When he’s done, Yasha blinks and smiles softly down at him. “Good job, I’m… proud of you.” She tousles his hair gently. “What’s the next step.”

“Delay Caleb and then profit - heh profit, like _prophet,_ like a seer? Whatever, it’s funny - off of it to buy more time and goodwill. Keep the ball rolling, as it were.” Yasha nods, but before she can say anything, Molly spots Fjord and Beau coming around the corner. “Shit, talk about something else.”

“Um,” Yasha’s eyes go wide as she tries to think of something to say, so Molly jumps in first.

“So, am I improving?” Molly asks loudly. “I’m still getting used to the balance in the new blade.”

Yasha’s brows furrow in confusion before she hesitantly tries to pick up the lie. “I can tell it’s still… a bit… off? But you’re starting to even out?”

Molly nods. The two court members are getting real close now, talking softly between themselves. “Good, I know the extra weight will do more damage but I don’t want it throwing off - oh hey Fjord, _Beau_.”

Beau grunts, but Fjord stops her and walks the rest of the way to Molly. “Hey Molly, I was just lookin’ for you.”

“Oh?” Molly asks, heart seizing up. _Gods_ don’t let Caleb have found Imprisonment. He would be _so_ fucked if his one advantage was pulled out from under him like this.

“Yeah, Ironmaker wanted me to thank you.” Fjord says. “He said you pointed them in the right direction.”

Molly has to fight the surprise and relief that threatens to cross his face. Holy shit, he’s gotten _so lucky_. “Tell him no problem,” Molly says instead. “My pleasure.” Fjord nods, and when Beau calls for him he’s off again.

“Yasha, there must be some god looking out for us because holy shit,” he says. Yasha nods.

“Lets just hope their favor holds,” she says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ; )
> 
> See you Sunday


	8. Molly Ropes Everyone Into A Bathhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nott gets pulled into the water, Beau gets into a splash fight, and Jester lets a little something slip.

“Mister Caleb!” Molly hollers up the stairs to Caleb’s laboratory. He doesn’t dare put a foot on the staircase in case Nott is less kind this time around. He hears his voice bounce and echo upwards but doesn’t know how far it goes or how high the tower is. After a moment of silence, he puts his hands around his mouth and tries again. “ _Miisteeer Caaaleb!_ ”

“He probably can’t hear you.” Molly turns around to find Jester, Kiri in tow. “Believe me, I’ve tried that. I even used Thaumaturgy to shout really really loud.”

Molly flicks his tail back and forth in annoyance. “Thanks for the tip Jester,” he says.

“If you step up the stairs you’ll get his attention. I’ve done that too, though -”

“Nott might put a crossbow bolt in my neck,” Molly finishes. Jester nods.

“I mean, I could _probably_ save you, so you could do it now that I’m here,” she says brightly, and then she leans in, glancing back at Kiri. The little bird is fiddling with a small toy in her hands, her whole attention focused solely on it. “But if you are, let me know so I can send Kiri to her room. I don’t want her seeing that.”

“Don’t worry, that’s plan Z,” Molly says. Jester nods, and then looks at the staircase, hands planted on her hips. They both stare at it for a long moment together. Molly purses his lips, trying to think of _some_ way to get Caleb’s attention. He needs to pull the wizard away from his books and research for as long as possible. If he can stall Caleb, he can stall telling the court about _Imprisonment_ , and stall his next “reading.” Stalling is the name of the game when he has to do all the investigation himself. “Any ideas?” he asks Jester.

She screws up her nose. “It’s super _duper_ hard to get Caleb down from his tower. He’s kinda lame like that, but it does keep his stink up away from everyone else. Why do you wanna hang out with him?”

“Team bonding,” Molly says. Instantly Jester’s eyes light up.

“Yes! Yes!” She bounces on her heels and grabs Molly’s hands. “I’ve been trying to get everyone to be friends for _so long_. But they’re all grumpy and don’t wanna talk to each other or hang out or have spa nights or _anything_.”

Molly blinks, completely unsurprised. “That’s a damn shame, now isn’t it?” Jester nods enthusiastically.

“If everyone were friends it would be so much better!” She exclaims. The volume of her voice has risen quite dramatically, getting so loud that even Kiri’s attention is stolen from her little wooden toy. “It wouldn’t be all business all the time and we could have _fun_ together. Do you know how _hard_ it was to convince Fjord and Beau and Caleb _and_ Nott to come out to the circus?”

“Super duper hard?”

“Super duper _extra_ hard! I had to promise Nott she could take people’s buttons.”

“Well that’s a damn shame,” Molly says, making a small note to himself to watch his jewelry around Nott.

“But if someone else is trying, maybe they’ll actually listen!” Jester drops Molly’s hands, turns back to the staircase. “So we gotta get Caleb and Nott down here.” Molly can feel the excited energy off her, like she’s making the very air vibrate around her. “What’s the plan for when we do?”

“I haven’t gotten a chance to get to the local bath house,” Molly muses. “But even if we just get everyone for lunch or something, that would be nice -”

“A bath house would be _spectacular_!” Jester says. “And maybe Caleb will get a little clean for once.” Molly nods. They stand in silence, considering the staircase for a moment. Molly is halfway through making up a plan involving a firecracker up the stairs when Jester gasps. “Wait! I’m an idiot!”

Molly looks over in time to watch her reach up to her ear, push her hair aside and thumb at one of two piercings along her cartilage. “Caleb! Nott! It’s Jester! Come downstairs!” She says, speaking to the empty air as she runs her thumb along the metal jewelry. There’s a pause, and then she speaks again. “ _Please_? It’s really really important. Molly wants you and he’s been shouting and _shouting_ to get your attention and it hasn’t worked so will you please just come downstairs and talk to him? You don’t want him to lose his voice or maybe strain it so bad he won’t be able to speak anymore and then how is he gonna tell the future or help us or -”

“Okay!” Nott screeches from upstairs. “We’ll be down in a second!” Molly hears the faint echo of a door slam and Jester stops talking. She lowers her hand from her ear, grinning ear to ear. She looks at Molly, hands coming down to fiddle with one of her leather straps coming off her bodice A little metal symbol attached to the end of it ends up in her hands and being played with in such a way Molly can’t quite see what it is.

“You’re welcome,” she says. “Now you just have to convince them to come out with us. That’s also super hard, but I believe you can do it!”

“Thanks Jester,” Molly says. He hadn’t planned on dragging the whole court out to the baths, but well, might as well roll with it. His eye flick back to where Jester’s ear is hidden by her hair, and his brows furrow. “So, what’s with the uh,” he motions at his own ear.

“Oh! Aren’t they _super cool_?” Jester parts her hair again to show Molly the two similar looking ridged ear clasps. She also has another, normal looking piercing in the lobe, a small dangling thing that connects to a chain that runs through her horn. “They’re enchanted so that we can talk to each other over them.”

“Really?” Molly says, thinking of the similar clasps around both Fjord and Caleb’s ears. Jester nods.

“This one -” she points to the upper clasp - “is tuned to talk between all the court members. The other is tuned with castle security, so we know what’s going on _all the time_.”

“Right.”

Jester’s eyes widen. “Oh my gosh, we should _totally_ get you and Yasha your own!”

“Get their own what?” Nott asks, scrambling down the stairs a few steps ahead of Caleb. Jester turns to the both of them and points at her ear.

“Their own clasps, that way they’re in the loop too!” Jester says. Nott’s eyes flash and she glances between Molly and Jester, looking the faintest bit anxious over the suggestion.

“Uh, _ja_ , perhaps,” Caleb says. “What is it you wanted from us?”

“Oh, well, _Molly_ wants to go down to the bathhouse and wants company and so I figured that maybe we could all together!” At Caleb and Nott’s similar hesitant expressions, Jester leans in and in a stage whisper rushes to add: “He told me that usually the whole circus goes together and he’s been really lonely and missing the whole group aspect of it. We should go since like, it’s totally you guys’ fault his circus family isn’t with him.”

Molly thinks he sees Nott flinch a little, but she looks up at Caleb expectantly. Caleb looks between Jester and Molly, and then back at Jester when she tugs on his arm. Her expression has turned puppy-dog pleading. A moment later, Kiri comes up and wraps her wing arms around Caleb’s leg and clucks up at him, head tilted to the side. Caleb sighs, expression resigned like he’s been the subject of this cuteness barrage before.

“Come oooooon. _Please_ Caleb?” Jester pleads one last time.

Caleb sighs a second time and looks up at Molly. Molly sticks out his bottom lip and joins the guilt tripping train. They make eye contact and Caleb sticks up an eyebrow like _really?_ Molly just nods and widens his eyes a little bit further. There’s a moment like Caleb is considering something, eyes zeroed onto but unfocused on Molly’s face. And then that sharp, intense gaze snaps back into focus and in the second before Caleb’s eyes drop back to the ground, Molly feels like his spine has been struck with a bolt of lightning.

“Fine,” Caleb says, and Jester cheers while Kiri caws in victory. “ _But_ \- Jester - I only want to be out for a couple hours, alright?”

“That’s more than enough time,” Jester says. “Thank you Caleb! You won’t regret this!”

The look on Caleb’s face looked like he might already.

They pick up Fjord and Beau together, the two of them talking about something over Beau’s desk. It doesn’t take nearly as much pleading until Beau stands, rolls her shoulders and announces she could go for a hot bath. Fjord gets the full force of Jester’s quivering lower lip after that and caves a few minutes later. On their way out, they run into Yasha and at the first mention of ‘bathhouse’ she’s already with them. Kiri is dropped off in her rooms - apparently being a walking bird means she doesn’t like bathhouses.

No one pays them much attention as they walk to the bathhouse, not much attention besides the usual curious, wandering eye getting caught on Molly. Jester leads the group to a fairly decorated building and a few minutes later they’re all inside a changing room. Molly strips with the speed of a man who had his clothes covered in itching powder. He wraps a towel around his waist and finds the only other person nearly ready to go is Jester. She shimmies out of her last layer and towels up.

Without looking like he’s _looking_ , Molly takes a glance around the rest of the group. Fjord and Beau are both muscular in a lean sort of way, though Fjord is built heavier than her. His broad shoulders look even wider next to her extremely trim and disciplined figure. Jester is chubby, but in that way that implies an intense sort of strength only comparable to Yasha’s larger muscles. Caleb - undressing much slower than everyone else - is exceedingly thin, just the smallest bit of softness hinted at around his body. He’s mostly hard angles like Nott, who is out of disguise and busy unwrapping what seems like a yards and yards of bandages from around her body.

In short, Molly can’t help but find each and every one of them attractive in their own right, and he accepts that knowledge with a long, deep breath. He’s found himself in an extremely shaggable group, and in any other situation he might consider picking one (or multiple) and going for it.

As is, though, he only turns around and steps into the large group bath Jester had picked before anyone else could protest. Molly didn’t mind, dropping his towel and sinking into the warm water. The heat instantly starts to sink into his body, already starting to loosen tension and knots he didn’t know he had. He takes a spot on the little seat lip just as Fjord comes in, towel wrapped low around his waist.

_Yeah_ , Fjord is attractive, and so is everyone else’s nearly naked form as they file into the bath. Jester is last, just after Caleb and Nott, and she shuts the door behind her and when she gets into the bath she sits by the stairs in and out of the water. Nott is the only one who doesn’t get in the water, choosing instead to sit on the ground, wrapped in a towel. Jester takes to trying to get her in the water, to Nott’s continued insistence.

“Come onn, it feels _really really nice_ ,” Jester says, tail flicking back and forth in the water.

“I said no.” Nott curls further into herself, clutching at her towel tighter.

“I mean, it does feel super good,” Beau says, jumping in the conversation for the first time. “It’s just a bunch of warm water.” Nott’s nose scrunches up in displeasure.

“Well I don’t like the ‘water’ part very much, so I think I’ll stay right here, thanks,” Nott says. Caleb, sunk into the water all the way up to his chin, scoots around the tub until he’s by where she’s taken up refuge, able to look at her by turning just slightly sideways.

“Nott, it is only a bath,” he says, voice low. “It is entirely safe.”

Beau snorts. “I wouldn’t know that, looking at you Caleb,” she says. Jester laughs as Caleb shoots her an unimpressed glance, but he turns back to Nott.

“ _Schatz_ , the water is safe,” he says. “You can stand on the seat without going over your head. You can come in if you’d like.” Nott’s lip curls up, she eyes the water cautiously for a moment before reaching out with one green, clawed foot. The moment she makes contact with the water, she snatches it away with a quiet _hiss_.

“Oh come on Nott, it’s _fine_ ,” Beau says, making her way across the tub towards Nott. The three of them - Caleb, Jester and Beau - do their best to persuade Nott into the water. In another corner, Fjord and Yasha are having a quiet, halting and fairly awkward looking conversation, if the bunched up expression on Yasha’s face is anything to go by.

Molly lets out a luxurious sigh and leans his head back against the lip of the tub. This is actually going pretty well, all things considered. Caleb’s away from his books, and the rest of the court is distracted for a minute as well. _And_ Molly is getting a free bath out of it. He gets to relax for just a moment. Relax for the first time since the kid got killed. The warm scented water is _nice_ -

A shriek rips Molly from his revere. His head shoots up to find Beau clutching Nott’s wrist. Nott is also now in the water, standing on the seat, holding her arms up as high as possible.

“Beau!” Nott says shrilly. “That’s not funny!”

“Aw come on, you’re in the bath now and it didn’t kill you,” she says. Caleb frowns steadily at her, then gently reaches out and rubs Nott on the shoulder.

“It’s alright, see?” Caleb says. “You’re safe.” Nott yanks her arm away from Beau’s grip.

“Fuck you Beau,” Nott says as she rubs her wrist. Beau shrugs, unperturbed even as Nott shrinks into Caleb, who has an even heavier frown on his face. Jester is looking between the three of them with a growing concern.

“Do we want bubbles?” She asks, trying to draw attention from the moment. Beau shrugs again, just starting to pick up on the dual angry glares being shot her way. Molly glances over and it seems like Fjord and Yasha have picked upon it too. The stretch of silence is loaded with tension, each of them unsure what to do, and then Beau goes to open her mouth and Molly decides that _nope_ , that won’t go well.

“Well!” Molly says, clapping his hands together. He stands up and crosses the bath, standing between Beau and Nott and Caleb. “See Nott, the water isn’t dangerous, but if you’re not comfortable then that’s okay. Why don’t you sit on the edge and dangle your feet in? See if you can’t get used to it and if you don’t like it you can pull your legs out?”

Molly holds out his hands to help her out of the bath, and though she eyes him suspiciously, she uses them to hoist herself out. At Molly’s gently pleading look, she slips one leg into the water, swirling it around gently. Molly smiles at her, then at Caleb and Beau. He gets nothing but cold, confused looks in return.

Still smiling, he makes eye contact with Caleb before flicking his tail just so to send water splashing onto Beau.

“Hey!” Beau shouts. “What the fuck?!” Molly only winks at Caleb, and there’s a glimmer of something - perhaps understanding, perhaps gratitude - in the wizard’s eyes. Molly feels Beau’s retaliatory splash break across his back. When he turns to face her it’s with a sweep of his arm that sends more water up onto her face. She sputters as Molly raises both his arms in a ‘what are you gonna do?’ gesture.

“Aright asshole,” Beau says, lip turned up on a snarl, but her eyes are alight in competitive joy. She throws another armful of water at him. Molly dodges, only to get a faceful a moment later from her other hand. Jester squeals in excitement before joining in, sending handfuls of water in both Molly _and_ Beau’s directions.

“Oh, I see how it is Jester,” Molly teases before scooping up water in both hands and dumping it on her head. And just like that, the tension is broken. In the corner, Fjord pinches the bridge of his nose as Jester, Beau, and Molly’s shouts and laughter grow louder. He mutters something to Yasha, who shrugs.

A moment later he’s blinking post-splash, Yasha having moved quickly and then back into her place. He shoots her a glare, but it’s not actually mean. He splashes her back, and then the two of them are pulled into the larger fray.

Only Caleb and Nott stay stuck to the side of the tub - though sometimes if one of the combatants get too close, Nott kicks water in their direction. Thankfully, no one retaliates against her - and watch with silent eyes. Molly does think he sees the ghost of a smile on Caleb’s lips, but he’s so wrapped up in dodging Beau’s almost relentless, focused attacks that he doesn’t get a break to look.

As the water cools, so does the battle until Jester shouts that she’s cold and wants to get out. As if that’s the signal, Nott pulls her foot from the water and scrambles to the changing room faster than a blink. Caleb is next, escaping into the next room before even Jester can climb out. Molly sees Beau and Fjord share a glance, and then Beau rolls her eyes with a scoff. Molly is expecting Yasha to be last, but somehow, she and Beau end up in a staring contest from across the bath.

Molly leaves whatever _that_ is to happen to get back into his clothes, heads outside and finds Caleb, Jester and Nott waiting on the sidewalk. Everyone’s hair is still drying out, but Caleb’s is nearly there. Now that it’s not coated in dirt and grease, it looks actually really soft. _He_ looks soft - well, softer. His face is still gaunt like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. A clean Caleb is actually very handsome, and Molly can see where the grime had hidden it all away.

They make eye contact and Molly tries to pretend like he wasn’t staring by sliding up next to him and Nott and saying lowly: “You know, Beau was just trying to help.”

“Well I didn’t appreciate it!” Nott says. “She just pulled me in!”  
“I know, I know,” Molly says. “But she meant well.”

“Lots of people mean well by doing bad things,” Caleb says. Molly opens his mouth but a moment later Fjord, Beau and Yasha all come out together. There’s a moment where they all look at each other. Fjord elbows Beau in the side, and she frowns at him before walking up to Caleb, Nott and Molly. She glares at Molly, who holds up his hands and steps back towards Jester.

Just as he gets to her, he hears Beau start up with “So, Nott, I…” but it fades as she speaks quietly, and Molly gets further away. The two humans and the goblin (in disguise now) keep awkwardly talking as the group makes its way back to the castle. Molly, Yasha, Jester and Fjord all walk together and it’s actually kind of fun, watching Jester dance between vendors and buskers. Tortham is apparently almost always in festival mode during peak tourist season, and Jester seems to be just as enchanted as every other person in town. The air between Beau, Caleb and Nott has lessened a little by the time they rejoin the group, but Beau falls into step between Fjord and Yasha without a word.

They get back to the castle and Jester manages to convince everyone to eat dinner together before Caleb bows out. Nott follows him back up the tower and it’s not too much longer before Beau and Fjord both make their own exits. The companionable dinner ends at the same time Jester’s shoulders deflate the moment Fjord steps out of the mess hall, leaving her, Molly and Yasha at the table.

“That was nice,” Molly says, and Jester startles, like she forgot he and Yasha where there. She perks back up and looks at them with a bright smile.

“Yes! It was!” She says. “It was really nice to just spend time with everyone and have fun. Nobody ever relaxes around here. It’s all _work_ all the time.”

“You are all running an up and coming city,” Yasha points out. “I’m sure that takes a lot of work.”

“Yeeaahhh I mean, yeah,” Jester says. She pokes at the scraps of food on her place. “It is but no one wants to hang out or be friends. I had to tell a little white lie to get them all out and I _never_ lie. We’re doing such important things and we’re planning even bigger stuff so you’d think we’d all wanna be the _best_ of friends but everyone’s so business-y all the time.”

Something about that statement tickles the back of Molly’s brain but he ignores it to reach over the table and put his hand on top of hers. “Well, we’re friends Jes, and if I have anything to say about it we’ll make the rest of everybody our friends too.”

The way Jester smiles at him makes him wish he said that out of anything other than self-preservation.

Later that night, as Yasha climbs into bed, Molly says: “Jester doesn’t make any sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean -” Molly turns onto his side to face her, sticking his arm under his head - “She’s so… fluffy. Talking about wanting everyone to be friends or whatever. How did she end up in the same place as Beauregard or Caleb?”

Yasha shrugs. “She is a cleric, right? Perhaps her temple sent her.”

Molly frowns. “Did you ever catch which God she worships?” Yasha only shakes her head and drops into bed. She opens up her arms for Molly and he snuggles in close. “Huh. We should probably know that.” Yasha shrugs again.

“If you want to. I don’t think it matters much.”

“We should find a way to ask without bringing up our little illegal connections,” Molly mumbles, sleep starting to hit him.

“I found out where the circus is being kept,” Yasha says. The sleep flies away from Molly and he snaps his head up to look at her. “I think we could see them tomorrow if we wanted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support y'all!
> 
> See you Sunday!


	9. Molly Talks Religion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toya is Adorable, Gustav raises a question, and Jester tells a secret.

Getting into the prisons isn’t incredibly hard once Molly conscripts Jester into helping them out. The front guard recognize her immediately, and once she explains that Molly and Yasha are new court members at her level of clearance, they are waved through without hesitation.

A guide walks them back through long stone passageways lit by nothing but torchlight. There aren’t many people being confined in the Tortham prison, and most of those that are are in one of the multiple drunk tanks. There are a few solo and partner cells here and there, mostly empty, but a few grubby, huddled or idle figures look up at Molly and Yasha as they pass by.

They are brought to some of the older section of the prison, where there are actual small barred windows and larger cells. The change is sudden - the cold stone giving way to warm, stained wood abruptly. Sunlight streams in and lights up the hall and cells. These are empty but nicely furnished for a jail cell. There are whole, well-constructed cots, a nightstand and a small bookshelf in each.

It is in the largest of these cells - perhaps the old drunk tank - that Molly and Yasha find the imprisoned members of _Moondrop’s_ _Carnival_. Gustav is fat on his back on the ground while the twins are perched on one of the cots, each braiding one side of Toya’s hair. Orna is on the other cot while Desmond leans against the corner, head dropped to his chest. It is Kylre that spots them first, the large lizardman taking up a whole fourth of the room, tucked into the next corner over from Desmond.

At Kylre’s warning grumble at the guard, every head turns to the bars of the cell. Toya’s eyes light up the moment she spots Molly and Yasha approaching.

“Molly!” She says, in that rasping voice of hers. She stands, pulling her hair away from the twins and running up to the bars. She sticks her arms out through the gaps, reaching towards Molly. Molly smiles, squats down to be eye level and grabs her hands to squeeze hard. He wants to hug her so bad, but the cold metal between them stops any more contact.

“Hi sweetie,” Molly whispers to her. Molly hears Yasha request the guard step away as the rest of the circus shifts and moves about, and he does with a wary look.

“Molly, Yasha,” Gustav says, coming up to the bars next to Toya. His long fingers curl around the bars as he peers out at them. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you not on the gallows,” Orna adds. Molly nods at that standing up but keeping his hands in Toya’s.

“Well, I won’t lie to you, it’s a pretty close thing,” Molly says. He glances at the guard but he’s far out of earshot if they all keep their voices down.

“Gustav said you’ve managed to convince them you can see the future,” Desmond says, his eyes also on the guard and voice just barely carrying. Molly nods. Orna’s head tilts, eyes flashing in concern.

“I know, I know,” Molly says first. “I’m managing to juggle it so far. I think about half the court is sympathetic to me at this point.”

“The other half tried to hang us,” Orna points out.

“How are all of you?” Yasha asks. Gustav looks around the cell and sighs.

“Alive. Fed,” he says.

“Bored,” Toya adds. Molly smiles down at her.

“That’s jail for you,” he says.

“How much longer do we have to be in here?” She asks. “They don’t even let me sing.”

Molly sighs. “I’m sorry dear. I’m trying to get you out as fast as I can.” He looks back up at Gustav. “I’ve managed to make a small amount of headway in the kidnapping case, and I’ve probably bought us a couple more weeks.”

Gustav nods. “Weeks in jail is better than a day on the gallows,” he mutters. Something akin to fear glitters in Toya’s eyes and Molly is saddened by the fact she has to hear all this. Though perhaps it is better for her to know what’s exactly going on. Being left in the dark on things is sometimes scarier than knowing what’s coming.

“I do think I’m getting somewhere though,” Molly says. “Once this Kidnapping thing in over and done with I’m hoping we’ll be good to go.”

“Hoping?” Orna asks.

“I’m a little worried Trasys might try and keep me at court after,” Molly says. “But the deal we signed at least says you all will get to go free, and we’ll deal with the other thing when we get to it.”

“These are the people who were just willing to ignore multiple witnesses and evidence exonerating us,” Orna says. “According to Gustav, half orc and the monk seemed particularly keen on just hanging us all.”

“Fjord - the half orc - said it was about keeping the peace, but…” Molly glances over, sees the guard is still a good distance away and leans as far into the bars as he can. “I think there’s something _else_ going on.”

Gustav’s brows shoot up, and Orna stands up to come close to the bars. “What do you mean?”

Molly shrugs. “I just - Jester has said a few things that make me think that there’s something going on inside the court. She’s said they’re planning something _big_ , and once said that big change was coming.” Gustav and Orna frown, matching expressions of confusion and dislike on their faces.

“Does it matter?” Desmond asks, speaking up for the first time. “We’ll either be out of here or dead soon.”

“It might be why they want to keep me around,” Molly says. “I would think if you’re planning something big you’d want a seer on your side.” Orna nods.

“Makes sense. Though it would depend on their plans. Redoing the sewer system would be big but wouldn’t need a _seer_ to help.”

“I don’t think they’d be so secretive about a new sewer system,” Molly says.

“Do you remember -” Gustav breaks in, a thoughtful look on his face - “when we were arrested and Lord Trasys said something about putting the kidnapping to bed ‘before it attracted attention?’”

Molly nods. “Yeah, yeah now that you mention it.”

“Why doesn’t Trasys want the kidnapping to get ‘attention?’” Gustav asks, searching Molly’s face like he has the answers, but they just end up looking questioningly at each other.

“And what _kind_ of attention is he trying to avoid?” Yasha asks.

\--------------

The question of Trasys’ - and by extension, the court’s - motives follow Molly back to the castle and into the mess hall where he finds Jester and Kiri eating together in the usual place. None of the rest of the court are there, and Yasha is off to find Beau and/or Fjord. She says she’s trying to insert herself more with them and build up goodwill, but Molly still isn’t quite ready to get _that_ chummy with those two yet.

So instead he grabs lunch and sits down across from Jester with a flourish. She looks up and smiles when she sees it’s him, and Kiri clicks in excitement beside her.

“Molly!” Kiri says in Jester’s voice.

“Hello Kiri,” Molly says, smiling back. “Enjoying lunch?” Kiri nods and goes back to pecking at her bowl of seeds. She always has the same bowl, as evidenced by the worn, dented nature of the thing. The kitchens must have assigned her one to limit the damage done to other dishware.

“How did you enjoy jail?” Jester asks. Molly shrugs.

“Nice to see the circus again,” he says.

“I’m sure,” Jester says. Their conversation continues, wandering and jumping from topic to topic as Jester’s brain seemingly makes the strangest but interesting jumps in topic and logic. Molly finds himself laughing quite a bit with her, and once again can’t help but lament that they met in this circumstance, and not any other.

He ends up following her and Kiri out of the mess hall and through the corridors of the castle to where Molly knows the small chapel is. She leads the way in, pushing the door open with her back to keep eye contact as she talks, and Molly follows. Unlike most of the extremities of the castle, the chapel is part of what Molly has come to know as the inner quarter. It must have been part of the original construction, as not only does it look older, it looks like it was built with care and built well.

It is small though, with only a few rows of seats and the nondenominational altar at the front small and inornate. Removable icons for each of the approved gods of the Dwendalian Empire line the back wall, and Molly can see the small indent in the altar where they are placed. It’s built to be able to serve whatever god desired by the worshipers, but Molly is a little taken aback to find the altar bare at the moment. He figured that Jester would have kept her chosen god there when no one else wanted the space. But no, the altar is empty despite being well kept.

Kiri skitters ahead of the two of them and opens the door to a small closet. She pulls out a rag and a small bottle of what looks like polishing oil. Her talons click on the stone floor as she moves over to the row of iconography and starts to clean the first one.

“...and the hamster unicorns help protect the other hamsters because they don’t have magic and the hamster unicorns _do_ ,” Jester says. Molly follows her as she walks up the aisle between the benches. “Anyway, this is the chapel. I know I’ve shown you where it is but have you been in here yet?”

“No, not yet,” Molly says, shaking his head. Jester nods and points to the row of statuettes Kiri is cleaning.

“Well, if you ever wanna come in here and pray to anyone just grab one and put it on the altar and do your thing,” she says. “But try not to get them dirty because Kiri and I have to clean them, and it _sucks_ when people get like, ceremonial oils or stuff on them.”

“I’ll do my best,” Molly says, knowing full well he isn’t going to touch one of those ever. Bahamut, maybe, if he has to do some sort of religion-based lie, but not out of free will. “So, which one do you grab?”

Jester looks at him, and then glances around the chapel. She leans in close to him and speaks lowly when she says: “Can you keep a secret?” Molly nods. “Cross your heart and hope to die?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Molly says, drawing one finger over his chest in an X pattern.

“Pinky promise?” Jester says, offering her hand, pinky finger outstretched. Molly takes it and pumps his hand up and down with her, sealing the deal. “Okay, you can’t tell anyone because then everybody would get in a lot of trouble and it would mess a lot of things up.”  
“My lips are sealed.”

“I don’t worship any of those gods,” Jester says, pointing at the statues again. “I worship The Traveler.”

Molly’s eyebrows shoot up. “The Traveler?”

Jester nods solemnly. “He’s the _best_ god and my best friend.”

“What’s he the god of?” Molly asks.

“Oh, you know, pranks and stuff,” she says. “The point is he’s really really nice and like, my best friend, and I worship him in secret because the law says I’m not supposed to and that’s stupid, but the rest of the court knows and now you know!” She smiles at him, wide and hopeful. She seems so sincere in this, and then she shows him the little metal symbol she has tied onto one of her look leather straps. It’s the thing she fidgets with sometimes, and now Molly gets a look at it for the first time. It is a symbol of the arch of a doorway with a path leading through it. The metal is worn and old, but seemingly lovingly cared for.

Jester is still talking as he examines it. “But he’s really really cool and he should totally be more popular but he’s illegal for some reason which is super bullshit. So I gotta be really hush hush about it, so you gotta keep this quiet too.”

Molly looks up. “Does the rest of the court know about him?” He asks. Jester nods.

“Of course! That’s why I’m here!” Jester bounces on her feet. “Beau, Fjord, Caleb, Nott and Trasys let me worship him _all the time_ as long as I don’t like, start shouting about him from the roof and make people come down here and start poking around -”

The door opens and Jester trips over her words for a moment before settling on: “I’m _sure_ I could totally do that for you if you want. I think I have time later for a blessing.”

Molly blinks but rolls with it. “You, Jester, _are_ a blessing.” He plants a kiss on her forehead and she giggles. “Shall I come back tomorrow?” From the corner of his eye, he sees a couple of the cooks start to make their way up the side of the room to the row of statuettes, muttering quietly among themselves.

“That’ll _totally_ work,” Jester says. Molly smiles at her and steps away, clearing the area around the altar for this group of worshipers to place the token to Saranae in place. Jester turns to them to ask if she can be of any help and Molly slips out of the chapel.

Molly starts to make his way back to his and Yasha’s room, trying to digest what just happened. Jester, _the court cleric,_ worships an illegal deity and everybody else is apparently just cool with it. Molly doesn’t have an issue with Jester’s choice of worship - far be it from him to judge with his devotion to The Moonweaver, even if he’s never heard of The Traveler before - but a lord of the Dwendalian Empire is actively sheltering a heretic and encouraging her worship.

 _Does Trasys also worship this Traveler? Do the others?_ Molly ends up pacing his room as he thinks. _And again, the question of attracting attention. Sure, they don’t want their cleric to be found out, then they might get their own heresy discovered. Even if they all worship the Dawnfather or something they’ll get in trouble for sheltering Jester. Is that all their desire to avoid attention for the kidnapping is? Avoiding any larger legal attention to keep Jester safe?_

When Yasha and Molly reconvene that night, she voices what he feels deep in his gut: “It could be, but it feels like there’s… something more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmmmmmm. Wonder what's up, or if Molly and Yasha are just being a little overly suspicious.
> 
> See you Sunday


	10. Molly Gains Seven Years of Bad Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jester goes quiet, Yasha is worried and Caleb picks up on the clues.

Molly does end up going to see Jester the next day to try and wiggle any more information out of her, but the moment he even starts to breach the topic of The Traveler something flickers in her eyes and she quickly changes the topic. She turns away from him so as not to meet his gaze and he frowns at her back. The day before she had been more than willing to talk about him, and today she’s scrambling to try and distract him with anything else in sight.

When he finally steps out of the chapel, quite disappointed and confused, he comes face to face with Beau, who is leaning on the wall, seemingly waiting for him. Her arms are crossed, muscles popping out and her bo staff is leaning on the wall next to her. When Molly says hello, all he gets in response is a cocked eyebrow and a scowl.

“Well, alright Miss. Ray of Sunshine,” he says. “I’ll see you around.”

He walks down the hall with her hard, cold gaze digging into his back.

\--------------

“They’ve silenced Jester,” Molly mutters to Yasha as they pass each other in the hall later that day. Yasha frowns, grabs him by the arm and pulls him into an empty room. She shuts the door behind her before turning to him.

“They?”

“Beau and Fjord. The rest of the court too.”

Yasha nods. “They’ve been a little more closed off to me today. I was wondering what had happened.”

“It proves they’re all talking about everything,” Molly says. “Important shit at any rate. There’s some level of communication.”

“Do you think they’re all listening to each other constantly? Over their earring things?”

Molly shakes his head. “Seems like they have to activate them to speak. Jester did to contact Caleb at the very least.” He bites his lip, fingers tapping against his thigh. “We can’t let them close off too much from us.”

“So what are we going to do then?” Yasha asks. Molly sighs.

“I guess I’ll have to do the next reading a little ahead of schedule.”

\--------------

The next day, Molly informs Trasys via Fjord that he’s up for another reading. After dinner, he and Yasha are ushered into a drawing room that seems to be next to Trasys’ sleeping quarters, if the guards posted at the next door are any indication. Inside, Molly finds the whole court spread around the room, lounging on chairs and leaning against walls.

They all look up and straighten when Molly enters, and Trasys takes a step towards them, arms held out. “Mollymauk, I was _delighted_ to hear you’re rested and ready for this.” He wraps Molly in a hug, which Molly returns, hiding his shock over the gesture by turning his face away from the court. When Trasys pulls back, he plants his hands on Molly’s biceps and smiles at him in that charming way nobles do that _almost_ makes you feel good but you also know that’s the smile they give literally everyone.

“Delighted to offer my services,” Molly says. Trasys gives him the smallest shake.

“Good man,” he says, and then steps aside. One arm comes off Molly’s shoulder to motion to the coffee table. “I had the components you requested brought up here.” And sure enough, laid out on the dark wood is a handheld mirror, a handful of lavender and the gem taken from the kidnappers. “The mirror is two sided and unreinforced, like you asked.”

“Excellent!” Molly walks up to the table and reaches for the mirror. The quality of the reflection isn’t super great, but that’s not important. As he’s examining it, Caleb - from his place opposite the window - speaks up.

“Are you sure you are rested enough for this?” He asks. “You originally said two weeks. It has been just short of that.”

Molly nods. “I know myself, I’ll be fine.” He puts the mirror down and picks up the lavender. He’d just said the first flower that came to his mind when Fjord had asked him what he would need, but the small petals make it easy to rip them all up into even smaller pieces. He doesn’t even use all the strands given to him, he just sprinkles the lavender flakes onto the surface of the mirror. The room is silent as he does so, and he ends up humming to break it.

Every eye in on him, and as he spreads the lavender on the mirror and picks it back up, it feels like everyone sucks in a breath at the same time. Even Beau - usually disinterested - is watching with anticipation, leaning forward to see exactly what he’s doing. Molly breathes around the fluttering in his chest and carefully positions the mirror over the gem, holding it as perfectly horizontal as he can.

“What’s the question you’re asking?” Caleb asks. “I have one or two suggestions if you have not narrowed it down yet.”

“I am more than open to suggestions,” Molly says. Caleb rubs at his chin, looking down at the gem.

“What would gems like this one be used for if the kidnappers maintain their current strategy?”

Molly looks up at him and smiles, a wave of relief washing through him. _Thank you Caleb for handing me exactly what I wanted_. “Wow. I like it. We’ll run with it.”

Caleb nods, and Molly looks back down at the mirror. He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes. Keeping in mind that Jester can understand infernal, he mutters Caleb’s question in the demonic language. He waits a small heartbeat, winds up and punches the mirror.

His hand goes through the glass and though he can’t feel the slicing of his skin, he does feel the effect of his magic hit him as multiple glass shards light up in familiar light. He hears gasps all around him as he sways slightly on his feet. Someone - likely Yasha takes a step forward - but Molly stays standing.

Molly pulls his hand away and opens his eyes, forcefully unfocusing them. The pieces of mirror that hit the table lose their icy light almost immediately, but the bits still attached to the sides of the mirror glow bright. He can see the gem, blurry, surrounded by the scattered shards. He lets his shoulders go slack while still keeping the mirror in place, he relaxes his jaw before he realizes it’ll look better if he’s soundlessly mouthing things so that’s what he does instead.

He hears quiet whispering around him. “What’s he saying?” Beau asks.

“Nonsense, don’t worry,” Yasha responds, voice coming from right beside him. From the corner of his unfocused gaze, he can see her standing closer, watching him carefully.

“His brain is processing what he’s seeing,” Caleb says. “Mouthing is not uncommon among diviners and prophets.”

_Caleb’s done research?_ Molly thinks, alarmed but forcing his body to not react. _Fuck. Shouldn’t have expected anything different._ He forces himself to put the thought away. He has to concentrate on what he’s doing, he can worry about that later.

Molly keeps up the act for a few more moments before he lets his knees go out. Yasha is there to catch him, helping to put him on the couch while the mirror falls from his hand. He hears the mirror glass crunch a little more. He lets his head loll back onto the top of the couch, limbs splayed.

“ _Trapped_ ,” Molly finally says in common, projecting that same emotionless tone he used for the first ‘reading.’ “People trapped inside. Hidden away. Taken. _Imprisoned_ in a cell of crystal.”

He hears Caleb gasp. “ _Scheisse_ , of course.”

Molly lets himself babble on a few more moments. “Taken. Released elsewhere. Brought to their fate,” on and on, before he lets out a deep breath, shuts his eyes and falls still for a moment. Slowly, groggily, like he just woke up for a nap, he picks up his head. Wide eyes are looking between him and Caleb, who has his entire face wide and open, eyes flicking back and forth. Molly can see the gears turning in his head, a smile spreading across his face as he thinks.

He’d managed to beat out Caleb to Imprisonment, but he’s sure Caleb is now leaping ahead of him in deductive reasoning. He half expects Caleb to burst out that he’s solved it right here and now, but it seems like his head is somewhere else entirely.

“Thanks for putting me on the couch,” Molly says. “Usually end up on the floor. Now, what did I say?”

“They’re using the _Imprisonment_ spell to hide people in small gems,” Caleb says. “It’s very high level magic. I hadn’t considered anything so strong for a group of kidnapping thugs, but it makes sense.”

“They’re hiding people in these gems?” Fjord asks, reaching carefully to pick up the small gemstone on the table. “Like, the whole person.”

“ _Ja_ , that is what I am saying. You put a person in a tiny prison and transport them wherever you want.”

“That’s how they’re getting them away unseen,” Beau says. Caleb nods. Trasys is grinning where he’s settled into an armchair, one hand over his mouth. Like Caleb, his eyes are alight with hidden thoughts. When Molly catches his gaze, he winks and then turns back to Caleb. There’s a sense of palpable relief in the room, smiles between the various court members.

“So, we know _how_ they’re taking people,” Fjord says. “We still don’t know why, or who they are.”

“It’s a huge step forward though,” Beau says. “It also tells us that these guys must be pretty damn strong.”

“It also tells us they’ll be looking for a replacement for that gem,” Nott says. “If they need that to cast this Imprisonment spell, they’ll need to get a new one.”

“They do seem to have _multiple_ , since they did swipe three people at the same time the night of the carnival,” Beau says.

“Yes, but they won’t like being down one whole prison. You can keep reusing the gems over and over,” Caleb says. “Nott is right. They will want a replacement.”

“If they haven’t gotten one yet anyway,” Fjord says. “It’s been almost two weeks.”

“ _Ja_ , but these things are expensive and hard to aquire. They’d have to go purchase one -”

“Or steal it!” Nott says. “Either way, they’d have to find someone who has it first.”

The chatter goes on, the court making plans among itself, an air of excitement among them surrounding the investigation Molly simply hasn’t seen up to this point. Even Caleb is leaning _into_ the conversation instead out _out of_ it.

Yasha puts her hand on Molly’s shoulder and leans her temple into his. _You pulled it off again_ , she seems to say. Molly raises his tail and wraps it around her calf. _You know it,_ he seems to respond.

“So, two more weeks then?” Fjord asks, bringing Molly back into the conversation. Instantly, he’s the center of attention again, and he lets his body sag under exhaustion he doesn’t actually feel but must pretend he does.

“Yep,” Molly says. “A nap and two weeks from now.” He swears he sees Caleb’s lips twitch upward, but he doesn’t say anything. They just end up making steady eye contact for a long moment.

_Back to square one,_ Molly thinks to himself as he smiles up at Caleb. _Back to outrunning Caleb and the others._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops this is super late but we're back folks! Life got a little hectic there for a second but it's all good. We'll be back to our normal update schedule now.
> 
> See you Sunday!


	11. Molly Forgets A Detail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beau complains, Caleb does more research, and Caduceus gets another name drop.

Molly ends up convincing Beau to let him tag along on the recanvassing of any jewelers and magic supply shopkeeps, claiming that if Caleb is getting dragged along for his magical knowledge he should go too. He even suggested that they all split up, each take a shop on their own and then compare notes. It could go faster that way, he said, and after a small bit of hesitation on Beau and Caleb’s part he managed to convince them. In reality, Molly was hoping he would get lucky and grab the one shopkeep who did know something and he could keep the information to himself until his next ‘reading.’

But four shops in Molly is starting to lose hope. Neither Beau nor Caleb had returned with any information either, and they’re starting to reach the end of the main street.

“Nobody in this town knows anything!” Beau exclaims, bursting out from one of the jewelry shops, the door slamming open and shut as she comes out onto the street. Caleb, from where he’s standing next to Molly, frowns. His hands play with the fraying edges of his coat as he looks around. “I hope Fjord is having better luck with the private import records.”

“There are still side streets with smaller shops,” Caleb says. “Perhaps they are using those stores to help avoid attention.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Beau says, running her hand along the shaved sides of her undercut. She looks down the street and curses. “I’ll take that magic shop there.” She points at the front of a building with window displays of various books. “And I think that’s it on main street.”

Caleb nods. “There are more shops of interest on the east side. Molly and I can start down that way.”

Beau gives a little salute in response and starts down the street to her chosen shop, leaving Molly and Caleb behind. She disappears into the crowd and Molly turns to Caleb. “Lead the way,” Molly says, giving the tiniest of bows with a flourish. He swears he sees Caleb roll his eyes as he turns and starts to make his way down a side street.

The two of them pick through shop after shop, getting nowhere. Molly speaks to people of all kinds, some of which are far more friendly than others, but no one has any record of gem purchases that large in the recent weeks.

“Thank you for your help!” Molly says as he leaves the store of a particularly grumpy Dragonborn. His plastered on smile drops the moment he’s out the door, and he starts scanning the street for his next target. The only one he can spot makes his heart leap. It’s Maureen’s shop. He can’t believe he nearly forgot about it. He needs to get over there and talk to her before Caleb or Beau get there -

“There you are,” Beau says, grabbing onto his arm just as he starts down the street. “Took me long enough to find you. Where’s Caleb?”

“In a shop, probably,” Molly motions around himself with one had. “I was about to hit the next one up myself.” Beau glances down the street and nods when she sees Maureen's place.

“Man, fuckin' take it. I’m real fed up trying to get a straight answers from self-important merchant assholes,” she says. “Tell me that’s the last one, please.”

“There might be a couple Caleb wants to hit on the other side of town,” he says, trying to pull his arm from Beau’s grip. He _needs_ to get over to Maureen’s. Beau groans, rolling her head back on her shoulders.

“Fuck man. We’re not getting _anywhere._ There’s no way a ring of kidnappers are gonna be buying spell components from the town they’re also kidnapping _from._ ”

“You know, I was thinking the same thing,” Molly says.

“Oh man, if we have to go to the next few villages over and do this same shit -”

“I don’t know if small villages are going to have that kind of gem on hand,” Molly counters. “We just have to check everything in town, just to be sure.”

Beau rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I guess. Wish we could have made the guard do it instead.”

“I’m not the one insisting on keeping the investigation hush hush and in the court,” Molly says. He glances over to Maureen’s shop. There’s no sign of Caleb anywhere. Beau finally lets go of her arms to cross them over her chest, and when he looks back at her, her expression is pinched hard enough to almost make Molly wince. She looks vaguely like she caught a whiff of some disgusting smell.

“Hey, uh, man, I -” she cuts herself off, looking anywhere but his face. “I been talkin' to Yasha and Jester and Fjord and man, we’re kinda - about the whole - _gods_ \- the hanging thing -”

Molly tunes out of whatever Beau is trying to get across as movement catches the corner of his eye. He looks, only to find the door to Maureen’s shop opening and Caleb stepping out. His face is drawn in a hard line, jaw set tight. When he makes eye contact with him, Molly can’t help but feel like someone has filled his stomach with led and dropped it off a cliff.

Caleb starts to make his way across the street to where Beau and Molly stand, and Molly’s throat goes completely dry. _Oh Moonweaver, what did Maureen tell Caleb?_ Caleb’s hands are stuck deep in his pockets and Molly can’t read his expression. Oh fuck oh fuck oh -

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” Beau asks, hitting Molly on the shoulder, _hard_. Molly jumps, head snapping around to look at her. There’s a slight flush on her face, even as the sneering frown deepens. Molly smiles at her.

“Of course I was, you were saying something about the time you almost killed me?”

Beau’s scowl only gets deeper. “Okay, nevermind then. Asshole.” Molly smiles and reaches over to ruffle her hair, only to have his hand batted away. He hopes she didn’t notice how it’s shaking.

“So,” Caleb says, finally getting to the two of them. Molly looks over and finds he’s not making eye contact with either of them. His face is still this impassable, unreadable stone wall. Molly’s breath catches in his throat as Caleb goes to speak again. “It seems like this side of town was a bust.”

Molly fights down the expression of surprise that threatens to cross his face. Thankfully neither Beau nor Caleb are looking at him. Instead, Beau is grumbling about having to canvas the other side of town as she turns around to lead them down the street. Molly falls in step next to Caleb, grateful for his pupil-less eyes so he can examine him out of the corner of his eye without being caught.

Caleb stares ahead of him, diagonally down so that he’s watching the ground. His expression is blank, but with that small crease in his forehead that means he’s thinking about something. _What did he and Maureen talk about?_ Caleb would have walked in, asking about anyone who had been asking about large gemstones, and Molly had only been there a few days before asking about the same thing. She _had_ to have said something about him. Unless she had already forgot, but she didn’t strike him the type.

Caleb was smart. He could take “Molly was asking around town about large gems a couple day ago” and turn it into “Molly is lying about _everything_ ,” couldn’t he? Is that what Caleb’s busy doing at this very moment? Putting the pieces together? Is he going to save that information and turn him into Trasys and -

“I can hear you thinking Mr. Mollymauk,” Caleb says. Molly’s heart skips a beat, as Caleb starts to chuckle. “Not literally, don’t look at me like that. I don’t go peering into other people’s heads.”

Molly laughs, feeling his nerves almost shaking. “Well, not that I’m hiding anything,” he says. Caleb’s eyebrows flick upwards, almost in amusement.

“Oh, everyone’s got things they don’t want other people to know,” Caleb says. “I’m sure there’s a couple things you’d like to keep in your own head.”

Molly pretends to think, his heart thudding in his chest. “Perhaps a few memories involving others in intimate positions shouldn’t be shared.”

Caleb’s gently teasing expression disappears in a blush and pursed lips. Molly laughs, clapping the wizard on the shoulder.

“I don’t believe I’d want to know those things even if I did make a habit of reading other people’s minds,” he says. “Also, I believe some of the shops are coming up I’m going to go inside one now.” With that, Caleb briskly walks away, pushing ahead of Beau. Molly’s lips twist as he traps the half-nervous laughter in his chest.

\--------------

They canvas the rest of the town and are done before dinner, with no answers to show for it. They make it back to the castle and Molly watches Caleb until he disappears up his staircase for the evening. He finds himself twisting one of his rings around and around his finger the longer Caleb is out of his sight.

When he explains what happened to Yasha, she sighs and says: “Well, nothing we can do to change anything now.” The next day Molly is on edge, waiting for any one of the castle guards he passes to grab him and drag him to the gallows. He even passes Trasys in the hallway and he braces himself for a confrontation, but Trasys only smiles at him and walks past.

Dinner with the court is amiable, everyone else around him talking easily and while Molly keeps up a decent show, he can’t help but keep glancing over everyone’s faces, especially Caleb’s, wondering _what the fuck is happening_? The other shoe has to drop, Caleb has to _know_. Every bit of Molly’s work convincing him he can see the future has to have fallen apart, hasn’t it? Molly slipped up and let Caleb talk to Maureen and now he and the circus are _dead_ , for sure.

But Caleb simply sits there and listens as everyone else talks over dinner. He pokes at his food with the same absentminded motions as he always does. Beau leans over to give Fjord a noogie and Caleb only smiles at Fjord’s protests.

Molly and Yasha make eye contact across the table, her eyes asking exactly what he’s wondering: _when’s it gonna fall apart_?

They go to bed that night and Molly is restless. Yasha falls asleep after a few hours but Molly is there, staring at the ceiling. Caleb’s smart. He had to figure it out, didn’t he? Did he not tell anyone? Did they all decide to keep him around for some damned reason? Why haven’t they said something to him yet?

Molly can’t help it. He crawls out of bed, careful not to disturb Yasha and gets dressed. He forgoes his jewelry for fear of the metal clinking awaking her. In fact, he would stay in the room and pace if it weren’t for Yasha. If he needed her, he would wake her up but in all reality, all he needs is a walk and something to work the nervous energy out on.

So instead he slips out of the room and starts wandering. At some point he finds himself in the library, and he’s about to turn around and find somewhere else to be when he spots a faint firelight in between the stacks. Curious, Molly pokes his head down to look and finds Caleb juggling a couple of tomes under one arm, trying to balance a candle in his other hand. He’s not wearing his coat, and Molly can see these leather holsters on each of his sides. Each holster has a book inside of it, one looking fairly ragged and old and the other looking a bit newer. They hug his sides and show an almost worryingly thin shape.

_He doesn’t eat much with the court,_ Molly wonders briefly. _How much does he eat up in his lab?_ Caleb situates the thick books under his free arm and looks up to walk out of the stacks. The moment he spots Molly standing there, he starts, eyes widening slightly.

“Oh, _hallo_ ,” Caleb says, voice low. “It is very late for you to be up.”

“I could say the same to you,” Molly responds, matching Caleb’s volume. He’s pretty sure they could be shouting and almost no one would hear them, but he keeps his voice low so as not to startle the wizard.

“I am just collecting what I need for research,” Caleb says. “I’ll be up to bed soon.”

“Up to bed to sleep or up to bed to read?” Molly asks. Caleb frowns, nose crinkling.

“You sound like Nott,” Caleb says. “I will be sleeping soon.” Molly cocks an eyebrow and Caleb lets out a sigh. “I will sleep at some point.” Caleb starts to make his way out of the stacks, and Molly steps aside to let him through. “Though, you have not explained why _you_ are awake.”

Molly chuckles, shakes his head like he considers himself foolish. “I can’t sleep is all. Keep thinking about things.”

“About what things?” Caleb asks. Molly eyes him for a second, biting his tongue, trying to decide what to say.

“About the other day, when we canvassed the town magic and jewelry shops?” Caleb nods and Molly continues: “I just… I can’t stop thinking about how weird it is that nobody knew _anything_. One would think somebody would have had at least a little hint, but we came up completely empty.”

“Fjord is still going through import records,” Caleb points out. “Perhaps a private import purchase can give us more explanation.”

“Perhaps, but…” Molly bites his lip, then commits. “I’m still surprised we didn’t learn anything. At least I didn’t, I don’t know about you.”

Caleb looks at him, head slightly tilted, something shining in his eyes. There’s a heartbeat of silence before Caleb speaks. “Well, I didn’t learn anything major, no.”

Molly raises his eyebrows. “Nothing major?” He asks. Caleb shakes his head.

“Just a few fun facts about our local shopkeeps. Apparently, many of them are afraid to have gems that expensive in their shops in case of thieves.”

Molly laughs. “Yeah, I got that myself a couple times too.” He smiles, eyeing Caleb as he starts to make his way out of the library.

“Well, I hope you get some sleep, Mollymauk,” Caleb says. “If you continue to find yourself struggling to sleep, I could maybe message Caduceus and see if he can’t make you some tea to help.”

“Caduceus?” Molly asks, “I’ve heard his name before but haven’t met him.”

“Oh, he comes in and out. He’s the caretaker of the graveyard outside of town, but he likes his tea. Beau swears by it. He’s an interesting fellow, I’m sure he’ll be by.”

“Can’t wait to meet him,” Molly says. Caleb nods and they trade goodbyes. It’s only because Molly is staring, almost flabbergasted, after him that he sees Caleb turn left instead of right, away from his tower. Molly blinks, still sorting through the previous conversation when he realizes that fact.

By the time Molly makes it to the door and looks down the hall, Caleb is gone, off to do whatever else he’s off to do.

_Well, I didn’t learn anything major_ , Caleb had said. _Anything major_. Did Maureen not say anything? Did Caleb not figure anything out? _Surely_ Maureen said something about a purple tiefling looking for an expensive gem for his ‘master’ that never came back to pick it up. She had to have.

Unless she didn’t and Molly got so lucky again. Maybe she’s not the only person working the store and whoever Caleb spoke to didn’t know about Molly. Maybe Maureen assumed Caleb was Molly’s ‘teacher’ and didn’t tell Caleb anything to help some poor, frazzled apprentice she met once. Maybe Caleb got distracted and didn’t realize?

Whatever the reason, the moment Molly gets back to his room he kneels down in front of the window and prays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly sure has a wonderful streak of luck, doesn't he?
> 
> See you Sunday.


	12. Molly Offends A Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fjord finds a name, Nott argues about carrots and Caleb eats food.

Molly and Yasha are halfway to breakfast the next morning when Beau grabs Yasha’s arm and says “Hey, Fjord thinks he found something.”

They glance at each other as Beau turns and starts to walk towards the library, and then follow her. When they get to the library, Trasys is sat down at one of the tables while Caleb, Nott and Jester hover around him. Jester fidgets with her symbol of the Traveller, rocking back and forth on her feet. She smiles as Molly walks in but a door opens before she can say anything.

Fjord comes out of his office door juggling a few stacks of paper and a rolled up tube of paper in his arms. He manages to get to the table without dropping any of it and when he puts it all down it hits the table with a _thud_.

“Alright,” he says. “These are the import records for Mylo Griffiths.”

“Who?” Beau asks.

“Mylo Griffiths,” Fjord repeats, starting to seperate the stacks of paper across the table. “He’s a minor merchant who owns a couple silversmitheries on this side of the empire. He does a lot of importing and exporting and shifting his stuff around. So we have a bunch of his import inspection records.”

“And you found he’s brought in an gem worth enough for _Imprisonment_?” Caleb asks.

“No, he’s brought in _two,_ ” Fjord says. “Hidden in a box of other gems supposedly for his smithery in town.”

“Is he a jeweler too?” Molly asks.

Fjord shakes his head. “Nope, he only makes silver to sell to other craftsmen, but it made enough sense that the border guards didn’t catch to anything suspicious.”

“Mylo Griffiths is also a respectable member of the community,” Trasys says. “He’s above board, pays his taxes, and a lot of jewelers, blacksmiths and other craftspeople buy their processed silver from him. He came in pretty soon after we found the silver, buys up a sizable portion of our production.”

Fjord nods. “Yeah, I’ve met him. Amicable sort, I guess.” Trasys nods his agreement, and Fjord goes back to the stacks of paper. He picks up and moves some of the pages around before he finds what he’s looking for and passes a couple of sheets to Beau. She scans them quickly as Fjord talks. “Those are the compiled manifests and inspection inventory records for the last couple months. I included everything up to a week before the first of the largish gems that could be used for _Imprisonment_ appear.”

Beau hands the papers to Caleb. “Lotsa smithing supplies.”

“And small shipments of herbs,” Caleb mumbles. “The same kinds, over and over again.” He finishes the last page and passes it to Nott. “Queen Anne’s lace, purple bellflowers and thistle.”

“Do those mean anything to you?” Fjord asks. Caleb pauses, thinks, and then shakes his head. He looks down at Nott, who’s chewing one of her fingernails as she reads. “No?” Nott says, hesitantly. “I don’t know what you could make with wild carrot, bellflowers and thistle. Doesn’t sound like it’d make anything but a shitty soup.”

“She’s an alchemist,” Jester says, leaning to Molly’s ear to whisper. He glances at her - she must have spotted his slight confusion. He nods in appreciation just as she takes the pages from Yasha. She glances through them for just a second before handing them to Molly.

Molly looks down at the papers in his hand, seeing the scratchy, scrawled handwriting that much be Fjord’s. It kind of looks the few attempts at writing letters in the dirt Molly has actually bothered to try. He purses his lips like he’s concentrating on them, but really his mind is on Nott. _An alchemist, huh?_ He thinks to himself, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She’s absentmindedly pulling her claws through a lock of her greasy hair as the others talk. It makes sense, Molly supposes, that the assistant to a court wizard would have some sort of speciality. He remembers seeing Nott do minor forms of magic once or twice, but nothing major, so alchemy fits.

“...divination related?” Molly blinks back into the conversation just as Fjord finishes addressing him. Every eye in the room is on him now and he smiles.

“Hm? Sorry, didn’t hear you,” Molly says.

“I asked if something in that list caught your eye, seemed like you were focused mighty hard on it,” Fjord says. Molly hums again, glances at the top page and then leans over the table to hand them to Trasys. The lord takes them graciously, with a nod of his head.

“I’ve never used any of that stuff as components before,” Molly says, “but they could be useful as foci, like how I used the gem last time.”

Fjord nods, and Molly can’t help but look over at Caleb. Calec seems to sense his gaze, and he meets it for just a fraction of a second before looking down and away. Molly thinks he can see something dancing and turning behind his eyes, the upward twitch of the corner of Caleb’s mouth giving no clues The man’s mind always seems to be moving at a gallop, always halfway in whatever world his thoughts occupy.

“I will admit, I don’t think that carrots have a place in silversmithing,” Fjord says. Beau’s nose scrunches up and she makes a grunt of agreement.

“It’s not _carrot_ carrot,” Nott interjects, “it’s not really super edible and kinda hairy.” Fjord raises an eyebrow. “What? I’ve foraged before and the baby roots look a bit like baby carrots! But they taste really shitty and not like - well they kinda taste like shitty carrots. I was gonna say they don’t taste like carrots at all but that’s not true. They do taste kinda like carrots but just like _really shitty carrots_.”

“Well, I don’t think you need _shitty_ carrots for silversmithing either.” Fjord rubs the bridge of his nose as Jester giggles. “The point is that Griffiths is buying high level spell components and inexplicable herbs.”

“It’s not a whole lot to go on,” Beau says. “Not exactly the most, uh, non-circunstancial.”

“It’s the most we got,” Fjord says. “More than what we had before.” With that, he glances over to Molly and nods in acknowledgement. Molly smiles back, tail twitching back and forth. He prays Jester can’t see the nerves in the movement like he knows Yasha must, from the way she glances at it and then at him. Her steady gaze is comforting, grounding in its familiarity.

“So what’s the plan then?” Molly asks.

\--------------

The plan is a stakeout, apparently.

Well, the original plan was to set up charms that would allow the court to see inside both Griffith’s home and shop in town, but it didn’t quite work out that way. It was simple to get the magic planted in the store, but Griffith’s home - a large, imposing, three story building on the nicest residential street in Tortham - turned out to be protected heavily with a powerful anti-magic field. It wasn’t uncommon for wealthy folk to have that sort of protection - Molly knows, he learned the hard way in a con gone wrong - but it certainly made the recon job harder for everyone.

And, through a combination of Nott’s paranoia, Beau’s desire to “get her hands into it” (her words), and Trasys’ insistence on keeping this “in house,” it has fallen to the members of the court and high level guard commanders to keep watch _personally_ over the Griffith estate. A rotation was established, and various combination of court members have taken turns sitting up in the building directly across the street from the home in question. The building had been quietly bought up by Trasys under a pseudonym, and now it was home to a seven-person surveillance operation.

Molly’s first shift comes in the afternoon of the second day of the stakeout. He’s _supposed_ to be manning it with Caleb. Molly has been secretly looking forward to a quiet, solitary few hours with the man to either grill him for what _exactly_ he might know about Molly’s “prophet” ruse or maybe just further ingratiate himself with Caleb, but Caleb hasn’t shown. There hasn’t been hide nor hair of the man since Molly relieved Beau and Yasha from their watch. So he’s been alone in the dark, cold upper floor of an empty building with nothing and no one to distract him.

Well, nothing but this damn cat.

A few minutes after Molly’s arrival, a moderately sized bengal cat had appeared from somewhere and curled up on the windowsill, head looking out the window towards the Griffith home. Originally, Molly had tried to shoo the thing away, worried that its chosen resting spot might block his view of the building or disrupt the illusion charm that was concealing whoever was watching the house, but it hadn’t been receptive to his efforts. So he had picked it up, leading to the situation Molly now found himself in.

“Just - ow!” Molly hisses as the cat’s claws sink into his arm. He fights to keep a hold of it as he carries it downstairs to put it outside. “You dick. You’ll be happier outdoors, I _promise_.” The cat hisses at him and only redoubles its efforts to escape his grip.

Finally, after having collected a new group of nicks and scratches up from sharp claws and teeth, Molly manages to get the back door open and drop the cat outside. “See? Isn’t the outside nice? It’s a good day - hey! Nope nope nope -” Molly gently nudges it away from the door with his foot, earning another scratch to his ankle for his efforts. “Outside. You’ll thank me later.”

With that, Molly shuts the door on the cat, ignoring its meows, and lets out a breath. It’s not that Molly doesn’t like animals, he thinks they’re _fine,_ but not when you’re trying to work. _Never work with animals in showbusiness,_ Gustav had once said. To be fair, he might have only said it to justify not letting Toya keep a stray puppy she found once, but still. Gusta had said it early enough on that Molly had internalized it. Never work with animals.

Molly trudges upstairs, already missing the small distraction the cat had given him, cursing Caleb for not showing. He sits back down in the chair by the window, chin on his hand, ready to play “how many shapes can I contort my tail into” until Bryce and another guard commander come to relieve him -

“Oh bloody hell, _how?_ ” Molly says, as the bengal cat reappears in front of him, slinking out from underneath Molly’s chair. It trots over to the window, tail held aloft to give Molly a _wonderful_ view of its ass. It jumps back on the window, looks over its shoulder at Molly as it plops back down into its loaf, and then, its point made, recenters its gaze on the Griffith home.

Molly stares, dumbfounded for a moment, before he decides _fuck it_. The cat can stay. He’s not about to go through that little fight a second time. So he settles back into the chair, grumbling about _stupid wizards who don’t show_ and _cats with attitude._ The cat’s ears flick back, but then settle back down. Its tail swishes lazily in the air, and Molly finds himself subconsciously mirroring with his own tail.

By the end of his watch, Molly has moved his chair up next to the window, and has been running his hand across the cat’s back for hours. Mind numbing, completely uneventful, absolutely _boring_ hours. The cat’s purring had been nice, and, _reluctantly,_ Molly must admit it was nice to have it since Caleb never _fucking_ showed.

Oh the wizard is gonna get an earful, trigger happy goblins and dark staircases be damned.

Bryce and a larger, hulking fellow show up and let Molly off shift. Molly lets them in after he hears the code knock on the back door and with a bow he says: “Welcome. Enjoy your stay among the dust.”

Bryce gives him a wry smile - they haven’t spoken since Molly was arrested - and motions the other guard commander up the stairs. “It’s good to see you in good health and high spirits Mr. Tealeaf,” they say. Molly smiles.

“Well, it’s good to be that way,” he responds. “No hard feelings, by the way.”

“Good to know,” Bryce says, with the slightest undercurrent of laughter in their voice. “I wasn’t really the biggest fan of what the court wanted to do. Glad you managed to get out of it.” Molly nods. He goes to speak but the cat pushes past his ankles and catches Bryce’s attention. They make a small noise of understanding, and then squat down to pet it gently. “I was wondering where you were,” they say. The cat mews, flicking its tail back and forth before weaving between Bryce’s legs. Bryce cracks open the door to let it out and it disappears out onto the street.

“Well, I best be off, dinner’s almost served,” Molly says, the sight of the cat reminding him of his pressing need to have some _words_ with Caleb Widogast. Bryce nods, they say their goodbyes and Molly leaves out the back door. He makes his solitary way back to the castle, the busy streets of Tortham barely distracting him anymore.

He makes it to the castle and ducks inside the meal hall. At the usual spot he finds Beau, Fjord, Jester and Yasha already sat down and eating. Heels clicking on the floor, he pushes his way through the crowd until he stands at the end of the table. He smiles wide, letting his teeth show just a little bit, and plants his hands on the table.

“Would any of you know where Caleb is?” He asks, voice deceptively light. Yasha frowns, and Fjord and Beau look at each other.

“Wasn’t he just on watch with you?” Beau asks. Molly’s frustrated, angry smile cracks a little wider.

“No, no he wasn’t. He was _supposed to be_ , but he never showed. I would like to converse with him about his absence.”

“I was there, more or less” Caleb’s voice brings Molly’s gaze up to see him and Nott coming down the mess hall with plates in their hands.

“Oh? Really?” Molly says, tail flicking. “Because to me, I just spent five hours on watch, _alone_ , five hours that during which I expected to be graced with your presence.”

Caleb clears his throat. “Frumpkin.”

“Frumpkin?” Molly asks, as understanding breaks across everyone’s (minus Yasha’s) faces. Jester starts laughing, hands wiggling at her sides. Beau leans over and puts her forehead on Fjord’s shoulder as she snorts. Fjord himself is covering his smile with one hand. “What the hell is Frumpkin?”

“Frumpkin, my cat. I know you saw him, you tried to kick him out of the building.”

At that, Beau’s silently shaking shoulders turn into loud, guffawing laughter. Molly glares at her, and then turns back to Caleb. “You sent your cat on a stakeout in your place?”

“ _Ja_ , he is my familiar,” Caleb says. “I can see through his eyes, so I sent him down to keep watch with you.” To Molly’s dumbfounded expression, he adds: “If it makes you feel better, I too was sat there doing nothing for a while. I kept watch from my lab, unmoving. I cannot do anything else when I am using Frumpkin to see. You may ask Nott.”

Molly’s expression must still convey disbelief, because Caleb snaps his fingers and that bengal cat from the house - _Frumpkin_ , apparently - appears in a puff on his shoulders. “See? Frumpkin?” The cat presses his forehead to Caleb’s fingers as he reaches up to give him scritches.

Molly takes a deep breath, presses his hands together, his fingertips to his lips in a prayer motion. Laughter roars as he and Caleb make extended eye-contact, the innocent expression on Caleb’s face betrayed only by the mirth dancing in his eyes. Frumpkin _mirrs_ and drops down onto the table, circling before loafing down in the same position he sat in on the window sill. His tongue _bleps_ out at Molly.

The annoyance breaks and Molly can’t fight down his laughter. _Of course_ the homebody wizard would find a way not to come out for watch, and _of course_ he would have a magic cat. He slides down onto the bench, side of his head on his hand. “Alright Mr. Caleb, alright. But you’re fetching my dinner for this.”

Caleb smiles, actually _smiles,_ a soft little thing and nods his acceptance. He puts his own dinner on the table and starts to make his way back to the meal counter. Nott hops up into her usual place as the laughter dies down.

“Ah shit, I can’t believe we didn’t tell you about Frumpkin,” Beau says. Frumpkin’s tail flicks at the sound of his name.

“Isn’t Caleb sending Frumpkin to watch like, totally _cheating_ ,” Jester says. “That place is dusty and uncomfy. It’s no fair he gets to stay up in his warm lab. I bet he was in bed the whole time.” She looks at Nott for confirmation. Nott looks back, wide-eyed, a piece of bacon sticking out of her mouth. She quickly swallows, glances over at where Caleb is waiting in line at the meal counter, and then looks back at the group.

“Only because I told him to be,” Nott says. “He was going to just sit at his desk the whole time.”

“ _Still_ ,” Jester whines. “Not fair.”

“Yeah, if we all have to sit in that room so should he,” Beau says.

Nott’s expression wrinkles. “I tried to get him to go, but he refused. He needs more… sunlight. Yeah, sunlight.”

“We could make a rule that he can’t use Frumpkin,” Beau says, around a mouthful of eggs.

“He needs to get out of that lab more!” Jester hits the table with her hands, tail flicking behind her.

Molly can’t help but agree, and so by the time Caleb comes back they’ve appointed Fjord to the job of delivering the news. Caleb takes the new rule surprisingly well, but Molly sees his glance towards Nott, and Nott’s returning shrug and smile.

But Jester’s already off on a new tangent, pulling everyone into a conversation about how they could “pretty up” the watch room. Molly is absorbed, passively debating the possibility of a water installation, when he feels a weight settle on his lap. He looks down, and finds Frumpkin looking up at him. The cat mews, prompting Molly to pet his head gently.

“Sorry for kicking you out,” Molly says, just loud enough for Caleb, sitting across from him, to hear. He leans down and presses a kiss to Frumpkin’s head, and glances up at Caleb. The wizard shrugs, picking at the crumbs of his dinner. Molly blinks, realizing that Caleb’s actually eaten and eaten pretty quickly.

Frumpkin surges up from Molly’s lap, landing on the table with a cat’s grace. Before Molly knows what’s happening, Frumpkin grabs two strips of bacon from Molly’s plate and trots across the table to Caleb. Caleb holds his hand out and Frumpkin drops them from his mouth to the waiting palm.

“Mr. Caleb,” Molly says, mock offended, one hand to his chest. “That’s my bacon.” Without breaking eye contact, Caleb raises one of the strips of bacon to his mouth and eats it, the part that had been in Frumpkin’s mouth and all.

“Dude, _gross_!” Beau exclaims. Caleb just smiles and eats the other.

Molly cocks an eyebrow, and the feeling of companionship over the dinner table is only soured by Molly’s realization that it _is_ companionable. _These people tried to kill us,_ Molly tries to remind himself, but watching the group laugh as Beau shoves Caleb over his ‘nasty ass cat-mouth food’ is actually kind of… nice? It feels easy.

_We’re not here to make these people our friends,_ Molly thinks, _we’re conning them for our lives._ But it’s hard not to laugh along, hard not to feel the comfort of a group settle into his bones. He looks over at Yasha and sees that she, too, is a bit more relaxed than she has been since the got here. She looks at Beau with this incremental softness that Molly thinks he might be the only person who knows Yasha well enough to see.  
_Damn it,_ Molly thinks to himself, _I actually kind of like these motherfuckers_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know it's hard to find canonical Molly & Frumpkin interactions to base an entire scene on? Anyway I love the fey cat. I want my own Frumpkin.
> 
> See you Sunday!


	13. Molly Admits To A Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jester draws a dick, Caleb info dumps and Frumpkin does some recon work.

Molly holds a series of shifts over the next couple of days with various people. He spends his watch with Fjord leading him in circles around Molly’s own past, a shift with Bryce just shooting the shit, and a shift with Beau that nearly ends up with him thrown out a window. It was kind of worth it though to see her expression after Molly asked her if she wanted to play 52 card pickup and subsequently threw the deck of cards she brought around the room.

They were a cheater’s deck anyway, and Molly’s _pretty sure_ she never would have actually thrown him out the window. Pretty sure.

For all the shift and partner rotations, Molly and Yasha have never had a watch together, and the schedule forecasts a future without a circus duo watch shift. Molly has a sinking suspicion that that wasn’t entirely unintentional. He does notice, however, that Beau and Yasha have ended up together quite an unusual amount of times. But when he asks who’s been building the schedule, it turns out Fjord has.

Jester and Nott also end up on shift together often as well, and have started to come back giggling and conspiring over _something_. Once, when Molly and Caleb go to relieve their watch, they were greeted by the girls affixing a banner to the watch room wall that says something in looping scrawl. Molly can only just pick out a few individual letters.

Molly chuckles. “Excellent artwork Jester!” He says. “I love the dick in the corner!” Jester turns from where she’s balancing on a stool to smile wide at him.

“I do too!” She says. Nott, standing on the back of a chair, the seat weighed down by the two women’s bags and a few other odds and ends, scrambles to try and keep the banner up where Jester’s distraction has let it sag.

“Jester!” Nott shrieks and Jester whirls back around, re-affixing the corner she’s holding back up. The banner goes taught again and Nott finishes tying it to the ceiling. As soon as the other corner is up, the girls get down from their respective perches, look up at the work and give each other a high five.

“You know, you two were supposed to be _watching_ the Griffiths property,” Caleb says, but neither woman looks ashamed.

“We were!” Jester says with a shrug of her shoulders. “We took turns while the other one worked on the banner, which we could do because we’re the _best_ watchers and detectives _ever_.” Nott nods solemnly, both of them taking the last statement seriously. A fond smile crosses Caleb’s face as he squats down to be eye level with Nott.

“I’m sure you are, _schatz_ ,” Caleb says. Nott leans in with a grin and says something lowly to him, not quite loud enough for Molly to catch.

“So! Do you like our banner Molly, or do you _looove_ it?” Jester asks, grabbing his attention. Molly smiles and nods.

“I don’t see why anyone _wouldn’t_ love it,” he says. “Excellent dick artwork, _love_ the unicorn hamster in the “O”s, great penmanship, all around a fantastic banner.” Jester beams at him as Caleb straightens up.

“Alright you two, it’s our watch,” he says, “we’ll hold down the fort.” The women take their leave fairly soon, collecting their things and already chittering away excitedly about something. The moment the door shuts behind them, quiet descends, and Molly turns to Caleb. He opens his mouth to speak -

“It says “The Mighty Nien Super Crime Fighting Watch Room,”” Caleb says, making Molly’s eyebrows shoot up. “Except they used the wrong “nine” at first and had to cross it out. They almost used the number instead of the Zemnian word.”

“Oh?” Molly says, and now that he’s looking he can see where one word appears to have been crossed out.

“ _Ja_.”

“The Mighty Nien?”

“The, ah, The Mighty Nien is a sort of, group joke,” Caleb explains, fiddling with the sleeve of his coat and staring at the banner. “Bryce asked us once if we had a collective name or something and it just sort of… popped out of my mouth.” Molly nods, looks between the banner and Caleb, and then takes a seat in one of the chairs facing the window. There’s a moment of silence before Molly breaks it.

“So, you noticed then?”

Caleb’s lips pursed, and he takes the other chair, pulling it back over from where Nott was using it to hang the banner up. He sits on the edge of it, hands clasped in front of him, elbows on his legs. “I, ah, figured it out between the times we ran into each other in the library and the list of Griffith’s imports. Don’t worry, it’s not obvious -”

“I’m not ashamed,” Molly cuts in. Caleb looks up at him, meeting his gaze for just a moment and then dropping away. “I just never learned and don’t really have a desire to, it’s not big deal. It’s just easier when dealing with bureaucrats and officials to pretend I can.”

“That tracks, okay,” Caleb says, “I did not mean to make you feel ashamed if you are not.”

Molly shrugs. “If I had shame, I wouldn’t do half the things I do.” He kicks his legs up and catches his heels on the windowsill, crossing his ankles. Caleb looks at them, up at Molly, and then with a flick of his fingers there is a cat on Molly’s ankles. Frumpkin’s tail ficks back and forth, ticking Molly’s ankle.

“So, you said once you were working on this rare spell?” Molly asks, breaking the silence after a a few minutes again. Caleb jolts, and Molly realizes he was probably completely lost inside his own head.

“Uh, _ja_ ,” Caleb fidgets with the end of his scarf.

“Care to share?”

“Well, ah, there are a lot of old spells from the Age of Arcana that have been lost, one way or another, and I’m trying to track one down and figure it out,” Caleb says.

“Sounds difficult.”

“It’s… it’s a pretty big matzo ball, yes.” Caleb settles back into his chair. “It’s been done before though, so it may not be impossible.”

“You’re smart, you’ll figure it out,” Molly says. Caleb blinks, a flicker of surprise across his face. His face takes on a slightly pink hue and he coughs into his hand.

“Uh, thank you,” he says, and then goes quiet. Molly glances over and sees he’s busied himself by going through his pockets. There are many in his coat, more than Molly originally thought. Caleb is sorting what looks like bits of insect out of a pocket on the left inside breast, so Molly assumes that many - if not all - of those pockets hold various spell components. At some point Caleb pulls out a handful of some sort of dark powder, and suddenly the room smells of actual feces.

Molly crinkles his nose. “Darling, you can do whatever you need to do, but what _is_ that?”

“Oh, ah, bat - bat shit.”

Molly nods. “I don’t know what answer I expected.”

“It is a spell component.”

“I assumed.”

“I’m going to put it away.”

“Excellent.”

Silence reigns again. Caleb puts the bat guano away, but the smell lingers a bit still. Molly searches for something else to talk about, and the twitch of Frumpkin’s tail against his leg catches his attention.

“So, were you going for the stereotypical thing when you made your familiar into a cat?” Molly asks. Caleb, nose deep in one of his pockets, looks up.

“No, not particularly. I just like cats.”

“That’s fair,” Molly says. “Cats are alright.”

Caleb’s eyebrows twitch together. “Cats are _wonderful_.” As if he knows what they’re talking about, Frumpkin stands from Molly’s legs and paws his way over to Caleb. He jumps up on Caleb’s lap and Caleb starts to pet him, scratching down Frumpkin’s head and neck. “They are soft and strong all together.”

“They only love you when they want to,” Molly points out.“Nien, cats love you, they just don’t act like dogs. A cat will show its affection just by sitting with you.” Both of Caleb’s hands are busy petting Frumpkin, and the cat’s purring is loud enough for Molly to hear. “Cats don’t meow to each other, you know, they only meow to humans.”

“Oh?”

“They have 32 muscles in each ear and can use their tail to balance and they always land on their feet because of it.”

Molly looks over at Frumpkin. “Is Frumpkin a real cat though?”

“Of course he is, don’t be silly,” Caleb says. He looks up at Molly, but then a moment later his head snaps over to the window, attention grabbed by something else. Molly frowns as Caleb sits up and leans towards the window. “Move your feet for a moment.”

Molly obliges, leaning forward to peer out the window. The sun has started to set, casting long shadows down the street. He scans the house and the street, looking for whatever caught Caleb’s eye. “What? What did you see?”

Caleb points to the side of the house, and Molly just catches a glimpse of a figure in a dark robe slip into the narrow alley between the Griffiths home and the next house to the right. It’s a dead end down there, but after a few moments of both Caleb and Molly staring intently at it, the figure does not reemerge.

“What do you figure?” Molly asks, quietly, as if the figure - or anyone else for that matter - could hear them speak.

“Could be something, could be nothing but a homeless person looking for a place for the night,” Caleb says, matching Molly’s volume. “I didn’t see their face.”

“I just barely saw them.” They sit breathless silence, just waiting, watching, _wondering._ Molly can almost hear the gears turning in Caleb’s head.

“Maybe if I send Frumpkin down - “

“Wait!” Molly grabs Caleb’s shoulder, cutting him off, and points out the window with his other hand. “Another person.” This second person comes down the street, walking casually, a half cloak concealing their features in the quickly darkening sky. Silently, Caleb and Molly watch them strut down the street, and for a second Molly thinks their caution was unearned, that this person is going to walk right past the alley without a second glance.

But instead, the moment they’re in the alley opening, they sidestep and disappear into the heavily shadowed alley. Molly’s grip on Caleb’s shoulder tightens as they both lean even further towards the window. Their noses are inches from the glass, eyes scanning the street and flicking back to the alley, trying not to miss anyone else coming or either of the two figures leaving the alley.

But there’s no movement from the alley, and another, uncloaked duo walk past the Griffith home without incident. Molly can almost hear his own heart beat, and he’s so focused on the alley his tail is thrashing back and forth without command. He jumps when Caleb pats the hand that’s gripping his shoulder, and Molly pulls it away with an apology.

“No worries,” Caleb says, rubbing his shoulder under his coat, “we just need to figure out what we’re going to do now.”

“Should we tell the others?” Molly asks.

“I don’t know, it might be nothing.”

“But it might be _something_ ,” Molly counters. “Maybe you should send Frumpkin down now. Will he be affected by the dispel magic field?”

Caleb shakes his head, and then his hand is on Molly’s shoulder. “He shouldn’t have a problem. I won’t be able to hear or see anything while I am with Frumpkin, but I will be able to feel things. Shake me if you need me, and also please do not stab me.”

Before Molly can retort, Caleb snaps his fingers and then his eyes go white. They glow softly in the dark, and then Caleb starts to talk. “Okay, Frumpkin is approaching the alley, it is dark, but he can see pretty well…”

Caleb trails and Molly glances out the window. He can just spot the lithe form of a cat padding its way down the street. Frumpkin approaches from the right, moving swiftly but carefully to the shadowed alley.

“Here we go, we are reaching the corner, and slipping inside the alley,” Caleb says. Molly’s breath catches in his throat as Caleb pauses. Caleb’s brows furrow, confusion playing across his face. “There’s… there’s no one there.”

“What?” Molly asks, remembering only too late Caleb can’t hear him. Caleb keeps talking.

“There is no one in the alley, and there are no doors or windows in arms reach of a normal human, I don’t think. There are two windows on probably what is the third floor. And no hint anyone was here.”

Caleb blinks and the glow is gone from his eyes, and those striking blue irises turn back on Molly. They look at each other for a moment, and then back at the alley.

“We gotta go down there,” Molly says, cutting through every other swirling thought he has. Caleb hesitates, then nods.

“Let’s wait, see if they come back out, and where,” he says. “I’m going back into Frumpkin for a bit, keep watch on the street.” And with that, Caleb’s eyes glow again and Molly is left ostensibly alone, watching the street with his heart pounding in his ribs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up in advance, it is currently finals week and so this week's update may not happen depending on how much time I get to write. I'm planning on updating but don't be surprised if it doesn't happen.
> 
> See you Sunday!


	14. Molly Gropes A Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasha takes lookout, Fjord offers a small olive branch, and Caleb destroys an insect.

After what seems like hours of silence, Molly jumps with Caleb breaks the silence again. “Someone just came out of the wall.”

Molly, attention starting to wander against his best attempts, blinks his eyes back into focus just in time to see the first hooded figure step out of the alley and start down the street. Molly looks over at Caleb but he’s still in that white, glowing eyed state. His head is tilted almost like he’s staring at where the wall meets the floor, his body having slumped into a more comfortable position during the watch.

“Dark skin and long beard, scar across the cheek,” Caleb says. Molly peers out the window, but he can’t get a look at the man’s face. He half expects Caleb to come out of Frumpkin-vision, but he doesn’t. Molly worries his lip, trying to decide if he should take off and leave Caleb here to try and apprehend the cloaked figure. The longer he waits the further the figure gets, and with Caleb’s awareness currently out of the room, Molly could get a huge leg up on the rest of the court. Grab the figure, interrogate him, find stuff out and keep that stuff (and the figure) from the court. Admittedly probably more complicated than that makes it sound, but Molly’s luck has held so far. Maybe…

But then Molly looks at where Caleb’s hand is on his shoulder, and the relaxed, slumped posture Caleb currently has, and the fact Caleb can’t hear or see anything at the moment. He looks soft, almost entirely vulnerable. Molly can’t leave him like this.

_Besides,_ Molly justifies to himself, _he’d know if I left and might get suspicious on how long I was gone. Kidnapping a guy without_ Imprisonment _would be quite difficult on my own._ So he grabs Caleb’s hand, squeezes in the only way Molly can think of to make sure Caleb knows Molly heard him, and settles back into the chair.

“The other one has left from the same spot,” Caleb says a long handful of minutes later. “Shorter, lighter skin, feminine.” Sure enough, as Caleb rattles off his base description, the figure in the half cloak appears from the alley and walks in the opposite direction of the other hooded figure. This one too, disappears from sight but still Caleb does not come back. Molly peers down the shadowed alley but he cannot spot Frumkpin. He can see in the dark well enough but not at this distance.

Molly and Caleb sit in their silent watch for yet longer but there is no other movement. Caleb does not speak again. The sound of the door on the floor below opening makes Molly jolt. On instinct, he stands. Caleb’s hand fall from his shoulder as Molly draws his scimitars. He’s almost sure those footsteps coming up the stairs have to Fjord and Yasha, but the very fact he and Caleb saw something tonight is enough to put Molly on edge.

If it’s not Fjord and Yasha, Molly _might_ be alone in trying to defend Caleb. He puts one blade to the back of his neck in preparation. Then again, if he does something big to get Caleb’s attention, the man might snap out of his trace. Molly thinks for a moment, then hooks one foot around one of the legs of Caleb’s chair just in case. Sending the man toppling to the ground might be a good way to get Caleb’s consciousness back in this room.

Molly tenses as the doorknob rotates, and then relaxes a moment later as Fjord pokes his head into the room. He blinks at Molly’s deflating defensive stance, and steps into the room, letting Yasha in.

“Woah, did we miss something?” Fjord asks, eyeing Molly’s swords as Molly slides them back into their sheaths. Molly puts a hand on Caleb’s shoulder, squeezes and then shakes slightly.

“Sorry, jumpy,” Molly says. “We finally saw something.”

“Really now?” Fjord’s eyebrows rise and Yasha crosses the room to the window. Caleb blinks out of Frumpkin vision, looking up and around curiously.

“Yeah, couple of figures disappeared into that alley -” Molly points down the alley in question - “and then some time later re-appeared there from the… the wall?” He asks, looking down at Caleb.

“The wall, _ja_ ,” Caleb says. “Frumkpin is down there now. There seems to be some sort of magic concealing where they went and came from.”

“They’re gone now though, but it did look kinda super suspicious.” Caleb nods his agreement to Molly and Fjord glances through the window.

“Do we wanna send someone down there?” Yasha asks, her fingers curling on the windowsill. “Just to check it out?”

Molly glances over at Caleb, sees the way the wizard’s hands curl and fiddle with the furred, worn ends of his sleeves. “It might be useful, _ja_ , though I am the only one who saw what portion of the wall is suspicious.”

“Would you and Molly be comfortable going down to scout it out a little, then?” Fjord looks over at the two of them, brows raised.

“Don’t we run the risk of them recognizing me?” Molly says. “I did attack one of their conspirators directly.”

“Might be better that way. They don’t know Caleb so maybe they’d only think the circus people are starting to notice.” Yasha keeps her eyes trained on the Griffiths estate as she talks.

“So that way they don’t suspect the court is onto them, makes sense. Fellas?” Fjord asks. Molly sighs, looks over at Caleb in time to catch a heartbeat of eye contact, and shrugs.

“ _Ja,_ okay.” Caleb adjusts something in one of his pockets. “Listen for me to call for backup, just in case.”

“‘O course,” Fjord says. “We’ve got your back.”

The twitch of Caleb’s eye betrays perhaps not total belief in Fjord’s words, but he turns around without another word. Molly salutes and follows Caleb down the stairs and out the door. He’s expecting to have to give Caleb a lesson in “how to be sneaky 101” but Caleb completes the first step himself by jerking his head to the side and saying “Down the street a little, come in from the side.”

“Yeah, yeah just what I was thinking,” Molly says, more than willing to follow Caleb down the street. They go four blocks down the street before crossing and setting back down the way they came. Their caution seemingly proves unnecessary as Molly spots no one else around, no peering eyes from any windows besides where he knows Fjord and Yasha to be watching. From the outside he can’t spot them, the wards on the windows making them look completely empty

They hit the alley and Molly pulls Caleb down it so they’re both suddenly in the shadow together. Caleb stumbles a second, but Molly makes sure he stays upright with the hand on his elbow. “Good?” He asks. Caleb nods, and pulls his arm from Molly’s grasp. Caleb whipes his mouth with the back of his hand, glancing around the alley until he finds the shadowed form of Frumpkin. With a snap, the cat vanishes and Caleb turns to the wall in front of them.

The side of the Griffith home is nothing but a sheer brick wall, only broken by the lip of window sills all the way up on the third floor. The alley isn’t necessarily cramped, but still on the thinner side. It does go fairly deep but ends in the back wall of another home. Caleb walks about halfway down before reaching out with both hands towards the wall.

“They came out roughly here,” he says, marking out a space on the wall a little bit larger than a typical door. Molly reaches forward, slipping his hand under Caleb’s arm, and feels long the brick. The wall is solid, and as his hand dances along the course brick faces he can’t seem to find anything that seems like a latch. Caleb steps out of the way so Molly can examine the whole thing.

Running his hands along the whole space Caleb indicated gives up nothing for a long minute. Just as Molly is about to give up, his fingers catch on the smallest of divots in the wall, and when he looks down he can suddenly see a latch stuck into the wall. It’s almost like a brick had been removed and a small handle placed inside instead. Where Molly had once seen nothing but unbroken wall is this little handle, and he reaches inside to tug gently on it.

It does not budge an inch, and no matter what way Molly tries to turn it it does nothing. Molly turns around to report his findings and finds that Caleb’s eyes are glowing again. It’s only just noticeable in the dark, the faintest of blue spilling out from similarly colored irises not even providing enough light to illuminate Caleb’s face. Unlike the milky white that denotes Frumpkin vision, Caleb’s eyes seem focused, even as they skim along the wall in front of them both.

“There is some form of abjuration magic here,” Caleb says, “on top of that illusion you just found. You must have touched where the illusion was, letting you see though it.”

Molly frowns. “I thought there was an anti-magic field around the house.”

“If there is an illusion here, then the field must just barely end before this side of the wall,” Caleb says. He blinks and the glow disappears from his eyes. He reaches out and wiggles his fingers just in front of the latch. He nods to himself when he sees the handle. “Someone really doesn’t want anyone seeing or opening this door.”

Now that Molly’s seen the handle, when he glances around he sees that the once solid brick wall now has rectangular crack running roughly where Caleb had marked it out and up to about a foot above Molly’s head. The door looks to be made of brick, but now it’s easy to see where the wall stops and the door starts.

“Clever making it look like the wall,” Molly says. “Someone who accidentally touches the thing might not notice the illusion if the door itself still looks like brick.”

“This whole thing’s been more than a little clever,” Caleb says. His brow is furrowed in thought, a light dancing behind his eyes as he thinks. Molly swallows, struck by the irreverent thought that he’s more than a little attractive when he’s like this, turning something over in his head hard enough to etch that concentration across his face.

Molly likes appreciating beauty, but _maybe_ whatever part of his brain does it can shut up a little in situations like this.

“Can you make a little antimagic field yourself or something?” Molly asks. “Get rid of whatever’s keeping us out.”

“I would, but then the next person who came by would know someone dispelled it.” Caleb bites at his lip. “You wouldn’t happen to have some way to create perhaps a zone of silence?”

Molly shakes his head. Of his weird and inexplicable abilities, silence is not anywhere in his repertoire. Caleb sighs, then looks around.

“Alright, if this is what I think it is I can get us in, though it will make noise. If it goes unnoticed we’ll be home free.” Caleb reaches up to his ear and runs his hand along one of the clasps. “Fjord, I’m about to make noise. Keep an eye out to see if anyone notices.” There’s a beat of silence, then Caleb mutters a _danke_ , and lowers his hand.

“Should we wait? Figure out a time we’re less liable to be heard? Or at least grab some more backup?” Molly asks. Caleb lets out a breath.

“I figure get it done now. Do it in the daytime and we _will_ attract attention. We’re risking a lot just by standing here, waiting for backup - or leaving and coming back - is even riskier.”

“I mean there’s also the fact that lives are probably on the line and waiting endangers folks,” Molly adds.

 “ _Ja,_ there is that too,” Caleb says. “Ready?”

Molly puts a hand on the handle of one of his swords. “Fuck it, let’s get this going. Alright Mr. Caleb, open it.”

Caleb nods, and mutters something Molly can’t quite catch. The next second, there is a loud _knock_ that resounds around the alley. Without hesitation, Caleb grabs the handle and this time the door opens easily, silently swinging inwards.

Inside, there is a set of stairs that descend into shadowed darkness. Caleb shoves his hand into his pocket and produces a small insect. He breaks it across his fingers and suddenly the same glowing orbs from that night in the woods appear, lighting the stairs in twenty foot intervals. The moment they’re up Caleb slips inside the doorway, motioning for Molly to follow.

Molly, with a quiet exhale, slides inside and dances down a few stairs. Caleb shuts the door behind them, and it slides into place with a quiet thud.

“Go on, we might not have much time,” Caleb says, motioning down the stairs. Molly nods, turns and starts to lightly jog down towards the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I know this is late and short but between finals, travel, the holidays and having to construct a layer of spells for _one door_ that still (probably) follow dnd rules, this took me a while. But we're back folks! I'm gonna get through this fic if it kills me.
> 
> See you Sunday!


	15. Molly Sees a Dead Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb fails a stealth roll, Mylo makes his appearance, and another guy cuts a table in half.

The first thing that catches Molly’s attention is the smell.

The stairs go on for seemingly a long while, twisting around themselves as they descend far, far into the ground. Molly waits for Caleb to call a warning from Fjord, but nothing happens. The only sound is their footsteps and their breathing that grows heavier and heavier as they jog as fast as they dare down the stairs.

It’s all dark save for Caleb’s lights, but every once in a while they pass a lantern hanging from the wall, presumably used by people _not_ Molly and Caleb, who don’t have to break in secretly.

But the smell - this awful, familiar, metallic smell - hits Molly’s nose and grows stronger as they make their way down the stairs. The wafting scent of blood twists and starts to be undercut but a darker, more vomit inducing smell. Molly glances back at Caleb, sees how his nose is crinkled against it. Caleb lifts his scarf to his face as the smell grows stronger.

The air thickens with it, and just as Molly is starting to get concerned about possibly choking on it, the stairs stop. His feet hit the floor and when he looks forward the room starts to open up in front of him.

“Found the floor,” Molly softly calls back. Caleb grunts in response and a moment later the floating lights shoot out in front of Molly. The light spreads around as the orbs fly into a semicircle into the space. Shadows spread, shrink and dance as Caleb manages to get them equally spread apart, lighting up each corner of the room and the large door on the opposite wall.

The room itself is only of a moderate size, populated by three tables, a scattering of chairs, bookshelves and cabinets. Two of the tables are smaller, one covered in papers and the other with what looks like chopped up plant material. The bookshelves hold various tomes, and in the space between books there are bowls and vials and flasks, some containing various substances, some empty. The cabinets contain more alchemical supplies, neatly organized but unlabeled.

On one wall is a large map of Tortham and the surrounding forest area, small marks made in various locations around the town. On the other walls, there are pegs and hooks sticking out, each holding some sort of tool. A large section of them hold knives of various makes and sizes. Others hold what looks like meathooks and a strange, circular object. Fork-like objects and thin slivers of blades and funnels and other, more and more inexplicable objects hang on the walls.

Or, they would be inexplicable, if it weren’t for the fact that the last and largest table had a still-bleeding body on it.

A young human man is stretched out on the table, ankles strapped down to it with thick, leather straps. At second glance, the tabletop is slightly at an angle, the man’s head resting on the lowest portion, eyes open but unseeing. The more Molly looks at the table the more he notices it’s build oddly, the edges of it curved upward except for the end with the man’s head. Instead, that end is carved down into a point, like a funnel, diverting the slow trickle of blood still running from the man down into a large metal bucket.

There are a few large, but carefully places slashes in various places on the man’s body. His neck, wrists and inner thighs are all cut open, as well as his upper arms and the crown of his head. Molly can see where the wood underneath him is stained - no, nearly _soaked through_ \- with old blood, as if someone had poured a bunch of it over the table.

No, Molly doesn’t need Caleb’s quiet mutter of “a torture chamber,” to know generally what this room is used for.

“What spells require a bucketful of human blood?” Molly asks. Caleb slips past him into the room, his face pale as he looks around everywhere but the table.

“Horrible ones,” Caleb says. “Old ones.” His eyes flick around the cabinets and bookshelves, cataloging the various plants and substances.

“Poor fellow,” Molly mutters, looking over at the dead man. His skin is stained with his own blood, what hasn’t trickled down into the bucket at least. The sandy blonde hair and the birthmark on the man’s arm indicate he’s one of the carnival victims.

“I don’t think many of their kidnapping victims are still alive,” Molly says. “If this is any indication.”

“At least a few of them aren’t,” Caleb says. “It seems like they’ve collected quite a bit of blood.” His eyes finally travel over to the large table and the man, and Molly can see where his entire expression has shut down. There’s a distance behind his eyes as he looks at the victim, his hands still by his sides.

“This is less of a straight killing chamber and more of a… component collection and processing room,” Caleb says, then points at one of the cabinets. “There’s Queen Anne’s lace in that cabinet.”

“How much you want to bet there’s large gems somewhere in here,” Molly says. “You think this is enough to implicate Griffiths in something?”

“More than,” Caleb says, earnestly, seemingly missing Molly’s sarcasm. Molly bites his lip, but doesn’t say anything. Caleb’s face is drawn in forceful neutrality, but he’s gone pale and there’s something in his eyes that looks like he’s half a world away.

Molly frowns, reaches out and puts a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “Hey,” he says, “you with me?” Caleb blinks, staring down at the table. Molly shakes him, gently. “Mr. Caleb?”

“I -”

The halting word is cut off by a creaking from above. Caleb goes silent, eyes going up to the ceiling. Molly’s breath catches in his throat as they wait. There’s another creak and Molly’s eyes dart to where it sounded from. A few more breathless moments of silence is broken when it returns, farther away this time, but very definitely closer to the other door.

Molly’s hand squeezes Caleb’s shoulder, tries to pull him quietly backwards towards the door they came through, and while Caleb goes it’s stiffly. His foot collides with one of the tables, causing it to move and a bowl of loose purple powder is knocked off. It crashes to the floor and shatters. The powder goes everywhere, and Molly curses under his breath.

The creaking upstairs goes silent. Molly and Caleb stand stock still, eyes flicking between the ceiling and the door.

And then the creaking returns, moving faster towards the door.

“Alright, time to go!” Molly says, spinning Caleb around and shoving him towards the door. Caleb stumbles forward, catching himself on one of the tables before regaining his feet. The few seconds he spends slowed down end up being far too many, as the door slams open with a _crash_ behind Molly.

“Hey!” A deep, booming voice, makes Molly’s shoulders go up, his hands scrabble for his swords.

“ _Scheisse_ ,” Caleb mutters, hands going into his coat pockets. A moment later his appearance shifts. The coat changes into a deep red and loses the fur, his hair is suddenly short, his skin a much darker color.

Molly turns, pulling his swords out and scoring them across the back of his neck in a fluid, practiced movement. He feels the cold on the edge of the blades creeping up the blades and the hilt, just barely nipping at his fingertips. He holds them out in front of him, placing himself bodily between Caleb and the two figures bursting into the room.

One is a large, hulking figure, wearing two leather straps across his bare chest. His long blonde hair hangs in ratty clumps. He holds out two axes, one in each hand and the moment his dark eyes light onto Molly and Caleb he _growls,_ anger mounting. He steps forward as well, almost as if to meet Molly and standing in front of the other figure. The other man, a pudgy looking fellow in fine nightclothes, opens a handheld clutch and starts to root around in it.

“Hello there fellas!” Molly says, as he and Caleb continue to take steps backwards. “Would you believe me if I said we got lost?”

The large man roars, takes two steps to close the gap and swings. The axe in his right hand comes down hard and fast, missing Molly’s nose by a _hair_ , and slams into one of the smaller tables with a harsh, splintering sound.

“Take that as a no then,” Molly responds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey can we pretend it's Sunday not Monday? I was travelling yesterday and too tired to finish this up (despite the length)/upload. I will get back into the usual update schedule this week _I swear_.
> 
> See you Sunday!


	16. Molly Has A Nice Time With Some New Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb catches a table on fire, Yasha tries to break down a door, and Fjord gets exactly one hit in.

The big guy pulls his axe from the table like it’s nothing, and swings once again in Molly’s direction. In the split second before it comes down on him, Molly decides to call this fellow Blondie. Blondie’s axe carves into Molly’s arm, sending shocks of pain through him as blood starts to seep into his sleeves.

“Fuck, _shit,_ ” Molly mutters in infernal, keeping his feet under the weight of the axe and slipping in close to score two lines down Blondie’s chest. One of his scimitars catches on one of the leather straps on Blondie. The other cuts deep, blood starting to spread down Blondie’s chest and stomach. He glances back and sees Caleb blindly searching his pockets, eyes on Blondie and the other man still rooting around in a small pouch.

For a near breathless second, Molly prays Caleb will be the first to bring his hand out with whatever spell components he needs to get out of here. Blondie is starting to ready his axes again and Molly braces for whichever spell will go off first. _Come on, Caleb, come on_. He hears Caleb start to mutter, but just behind Blondie the pudgy man is pulling his finger from a small vial and flicking the clear liquid off the tip.

Molly sees the small drop of water transform, going from a tiny fleck of liquid to a rapidly expanding ice shard. It sails through the air past Molly and Blondie, and just barely misses Caleb. It sinks to the wood of a chair instead, and Molly gets to spare a thankful thought just before it explodes.

Small, sharp slivers of ice burrow into both him and Caleb. Stabbing cold pierces into Molly’s skin and he sees Caleb wince with it. Caleb’s spell completes a moment later however, and the familiar little metal rod cues Molly into what’s happening the moment before the goliath freezes in place. He sees the pudgy caster’s body stutter and slow, but a moment later he shakes his head and Molly can tell the spell doesn’t take hold.

Molly takes his opportunity to bury both swords into the goliath’s stomach, and he can see the anger spark in his immobile eyes. “Run?” Molly asks Caleb, turning his head for a just a second.

“Watch -!” Caleb shouts just in time for something to hit Molly in the shoulder. He sees the shape of a green arrow for just a moment before it too ruptures against his body. It _burns_ , this green goo that cuts into his clothing and his skin.

“Mothefucker - my coat!” Molly shakes his arm to try and dislodge it all. Caleb lets loose another spell that sends a few magic darts into the caster, who stumbles back underneath the four impacts.

“Let’s go,” Caleb says, making for the door back out into the alley. Molly puts a slash into the goliath’s chest just as Blondie starts to move again. Molly starts to take a step away from Blondie but he gets caught in the side by an axe, and the impact is _hard_. It’s enough to make him stumble into the table next to him and stop his movement. Blondie is looming over him and Molly can still see hints of the caster starting to move again, arcane energy gathering on his fingertips.

The caster’s next spell goes wide, missing Caleb by a huge margin and this time the exploding shards of ice don’t make it far enough to hit Caleb. Caleb shrinks away from the spell, shielding his hands. It looks like he’s holding something, but Molly can’t see what it is until Caleb turns and shoots out five bursts of fire from his hands.

Like the darts before, they soar through the air in easy arcs but this time they’re flaming and hot. Molly feels the heat against his face as three hit Blondie. The flames dance for a brief moment across Blondie’s shoulders, leave bubbling, burned skin in their wake. Another hits the caster and he shrieks as part of his nightgown catches flame.

The fifth bolt of flame hits one of the wooden tables, and it too catches. The fire starts low, licking only the corner of the table but then slowly starts to creep inwards. Blondie jumps back and Molly takes one last opportunity to swipe at Blondie, but misses.

“Fuck!” The caster shouts, patting his sleeve where it’s burning, and Blondie grabs the end of the burning table. Molly just manages to duck in time to avoid it as Blondie throws it end over end with the flames flickering high in the spin. Molly looks and sees that Caleb managed to slip to the side as well, almost at the door now.

One of the barbarian’s axes cuts a deep gash into Caleb’s shoulder as it to goes flying end over end. It hits the wall, bounces off and skitters across the floor. Molly uses the opening to finally scramble away from Blondie, crossing the room and yanking open the door.

“Thanks for the evening gents!” He says, even as the caster ends another shard of ice in their direction. Molly once again dodges the main spike and takes the smaller shards into his back without complaint.

Caleb dashes into the open doorway with a muttered word and Molly is a little surprised as to how _fast_ the man moves. Blondie roars and throws his other axe at Molly but thankfully it misses. The chair Blondie throws misses as well, and Molly darts up the stairs just as Blondie starts to take steps towards him.

Molly looks up the stairs and finds that Caleb is a long way ahead of him, even as Molly starts moving up the stairs as fast as he possibly can. He can hear Blondie starting up the stairs too, but Molly doesn’t know if the caster is following. All he focuses on is the stairs to keep from tripping. Tripping now would mean he’s dead, he can hear Blondie slowly but surely gaining.

In fact, when Molly glances back and finds Blondie is only arm’s length behind, Molly shouts. He intended to call Caleb’s name, only to realize at the last second maybe he _shouldn’t_ be shouting their names out loud, and so instead it only comes out a strangled noise. Thankfully the indistinct noise is still enough to get Caleb’s attention, and he stops his speedy flight up the stairs to turn and release one more spell.

Molly runs up past Caleb, missing exactly what spell he casts as he bounds up the stairs two at a time. If the stairs felt endless walking down it, fleeing up them feels endless times two, especially with the way Blondie roars in pain but still pursues them. Molly gasps for breath as he runs, the long stairs starting to finally get to him. Caleb runs past him, moving that same insane speed as earlier.

Molly looks up just in time for Caleb to hit the door, and Molly would whoop or sigh in relief if he had any air in his lungs that wasn’t being used for running. Caleb puts his hands on the door and speaks that same word that opened the door the first time. Molly gets there in time for Caleb to throw open the door.

And then he runs almost directly into Yasha’s chest, her greatsword raised high over her head. For a second, Molly thinks he’s about to be bisected by his own best friend, but she halts the swing of the sword just in time.

“Oh I have never been more glad to see you,” Molly gasps out. Caleb is just a fraction of a second behind him, dodging between Yasha, Molly and Fjord to plant his back on the opposite wall of the alley.

“We couldn’t get the door open,” Yasha says as Molly skirts around her.

“Cool, let's talk when Blondie is dead,” Molly says, pointing down the stairs. Blondie is about ten stairs behind, and coming up fast.

“Oh shit,” Fjord says, and then there’s a sword in his hand, appearing with a wet, splattering sound and Molly gets hit with a few sprinkles of water. Molly resteadies the swords in his hands, Yasha resets herself and Fjord starts to mutter something to himself.

Blondie bursts out into the alley and Yasha’s sword carves into his stomach. Blondie is bleeding from at least a handful of open wounds now, bubbling burns across his face, sealing one eye shut, but he’s still going.

“There’s a caster too,” Caleb warns as Molly swirls both of his swords, going to try and carve yet another chunk out of Blondie, but the blood loss and exertion is starting to catch up to him and he ends up swinging harmlessly to either side of Blondie. Fjord comes in with a low sweep and sends blood cascading down Blondie’s leg.

Molly gets one glance at the pudgy caster, seeing his indignant anger disappear as he realizes he’s now outnumbered two-to-one, and before anyone can do anything the caster puts one hand on Blondie. It almost feels like the world around Molly gasps, sucking in air as a low purple glow covers both the caster and Blondie.

And then they’re both gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, guess this is turning into a once a month fic. I'm gonna go ahead and stop promising weekly updates and instead just promise that I have no intentions on abandoning this fic whatsoever.
> 
> See you when I see you!


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